


Raw Crimson

by Bluerose161, RoboticSpaceCase



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Bill Cipher Being Bill Cipher, Bill Cipher is a Jerk, Blood Drinking, Corpses, Crossdressing, Crossdressing Kink, Dark Dipper Pines, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Human Bill Cipher, Hunter Bill Cipher, Loss of parents mention, M/M, Model Dipper Gleeful, Modeling, Near Death Experiences, Reverse Dipper Pines, Reverse Pines, Slow Burn, Vampire Bites, Vampire Dipper Gleeful, Vampire Hunters, drugs and alcohol mention
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-22 15:16:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22885069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluerose161/pseuds/Bluerose161, https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoboticSpaceCase/pseuds/RoboticSpaceCase
Summary: Dipper Gleeful, a successful supermodel with the world on a silver platter finds himself without a manager. Wanting the best of the best, his agency contacts none other than Bill Cipher, a man with a plan out to see why the supermodel is so pale and fond of blood.
Relationships: Bill Cipher & Dipper Gleeful | Reverse Dipper Pines, Bill Cipher/Dipper Gleeful | Reverse Dipper Pines, Bill Cipher/Dipper Pines, Bill Cipher/Other(s)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 57





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Welcome to our new joint project. We've worked hard and have been having fun coming up with and writing this idea, so we hope you all enjoy!  
> -Robo

_Dear Mr.Cipher,_

_I understand how busy you get these days with all your clients, but I am emailing you hoping that you have space for one more. Mason Gleeful’s manager, Donavan, has resigned from his job. It was quite unexpected and right smack in the middle of his full list of work. As Donavan’s former assistant, it is my job to find someone new as a replacement so that my employer's modeling career doesn’t go into shambles._

_If you cannot take on the position as Mason’s agent, then I will completely understand, as many people seem to be trying to fill the spot as news spreads. However, it is common knowledge in this industry that you are quite all-knowing in this field, and I want to give Mason the rightful manager so he can continue his work smoothly during this challenging time of Donavan’s resignation._

_To be clear, you will be taking thirty percent of Mason’s earnings into your pocket, and he normally averages quite a sum from any photoshoot or ad due to his high popularity and endorsement value. This could very well be a good chance to boost your earnings and help our current predicament._

_Hope to hear from you soon,_

_The number to reach me is 1-800-XXX-XXXX_

_Mason Gleeful’s manager assistant_

_Jesus Alzamirano Ramirez_

Caramel colored eyes skimmed across the email several times over, rereading all the fine details of the message that rested on his screen, his monster energy drink hovering beneath his chin. He had it lifted to drink while reading, but the rim of the can never met his lips as he sat a bit rigid in the leather swivel chair. Even with getting the message across in his mind, the blond couldn’t seem to move his eyes away from it, always landing back on the phone number left with the assistant manager’s information.

He clicked off the page and opened a new tab, not bothering to sip any of the caffeinated elixir as fingers fly across the keyboard keys, typing out ‘Mason Gleeful’ into the search bar. The moment his index finger hit the enter, the page is filled with photos, articles and different sites galore. After skimming through his options, he went onto the images instead, wanting to see some of the shoots that have gained some of the most traction in his career. He knows the stories, he doesn’t need to waste time reading those. 

Mason Gleeful, or as many call Dipper from the birthmark on his forehead, recently took in tons of popularity as a model and an actor. From TV advertisements to photoshoot promotions, he seemed to be living the dream any model could want, with the looks, beauty, and team to keep him in the limelight. Although he did a lot of advertisement based shots, he also takes his own collective photos, where Bill seems to find the most interest. It isn’t because of their sophistication, excellent lighting or even hints of editing the photographer takes, but it’s the central focus that has Bill’s attention.

In any photoshoot he does personally, it always has something to do with vampires, specifically him being one of those monstrous creatures. From dripping blood being smeared along his face and staining white collared shirts, or even being posed with a supposed victim of the attack, it’s always done as such. His eyes are sickeningly blue, but there is a splash of red added near the pupil that seems to match the bloodlust in each photo. The most unsettling part is the expressions on the people he poses with. It doesn’t look fake, even if most photos are worked to look like it is. There is a level of terror that comes in the accomplices’ eyes, that seems helpless, startled and confused. Some of them have pale complexions that could resemble a corpse, with reddening tear stains to go onto the seemingly dead, cold skin. 

The photos are unnerving to look at but Bill supposes that is what brings people’s interest in, just as it always does. The world has a sick love for horror, to be scared, to wonder, to fear, and that is the exact formula that this model has taken into these photoshoots. For many, they look fake, simple works with loads of editing and a lot of work to make it seem detailed and realistic. There have even been released articles with speculations that the figures that Mason is posing with are mannequins.

Bill, however, knows better. He knows those have the full possibility of being real because he’s seen them with his own eyes. 

He has seen people being pushed down against any surface they could, with an unbeatable, undead strength that burrows into those monsters, and lets them hold even the strongest of men down. A venom rests in their fangs, so when they bite, the space the fangs have sunken into numbs, almost to the sensation of a dull thrum from a shot or bee sting, as some victims who have lived to tell the tale to describe it as. There are countless times that he has looked upon the dead frames that rest on cobble, grass, or even bogs of those who have been drained of their life force, resting with eyes that stare off at the sky, with either satisfaction or regret behind glazed pupils.

Bill Cipher knows because he has hunted them for years. 

Although it’s a dangerous practice, the money it makes can beat any day job’s yearly salary. Not only does it not get taxed, but it’s also a very simple procedure, once the freak is actually dead. The venom that rests in a vampire’s fangs is found to be used for more than just dulling down the pain of a bite and can be used as pain medications. People with chronic pain will normally order heaps of it off the black market, using it as a safer alternative to medical marijuana or the possible backlash of being jacked on several medications at once.

The venom is extracted once the fangs are pulled out of their mouth and it drips like blood but normally seems to come in a purplish-black ooze. From there, it’s put through a lab that can either make it a tasty liquid medicine or gel pills to be taken daily. No matter how you take it, the concoction helps and makes bank. Win-win. 

His targets normally range in the simple folk category, that takes one look at his wealth and status to pull off a good ol’ gold digger stunt. Try to smooth talk him over, seduce him, and get a meal out of it. It’s easy to get those ones down, the ones that most likely expect that Bill isn’t aware of their existence.

Vampires seem to lurk more than act, they don’t kill unless they know it can’t be traced. For the last few months of Gleeful sprouting popularity, Bill has been speculatory, dubious that the male is even really human. It’s a tough call, it could either be a very good act and motifs that he pulls. Or, it could be a dangerous immortal being doing the same thing Cipher does, using his title and wealth to get what he wants. 

Which is exactly why he gave that old hoot of Mason’s former manager a call last week. Even now when it plays back in his head, he can’t help but grin in satisfaction knowing how his plan worked out quite well to get him to scram. A simple pay off from one of his recent sales from another monster biting the dust and the man was over the moon and buying a one-way trip to Hawaii for an entire paid year of vacation. He left without a word to his assistant or the models he worked to keep under his name, only reaching them after a week to give off a former resignation over a facetime call with a nice margarita in hand. 

The position was now open, and Bill needed to take advantage of this. Other agencies were sure to swoop down on the opportunity like vultures, to steal what Bill worked to make vacant space to insert himself into. Taking his phone out of his pocket, he pressed his thumb against the home button so it could scan it, opening up the phone and swiping along to his contacts list. With fast thumbs, he types in the phone number and the dialing’s ringing began, pressing it against his ear. Naturally, he stands up, starting to pace along the black and yellow space of his office, with eyes swiping across the washed down windows and shelves stacked with books. 

It only takes a few rings before the sound hits an abrupt end, being answered on the other with, “Angel Midway Agencies, this is Jesus, how can I help you?” The voice that came from the male was very pleasant, full of life and chipper. That normally didn’t come around in this industry, so it was certainly a nice change.

“Yes, this is Bill Cipher. I received an email from you, about the status of Mason’s absence from a manager. I’m terribly sorry for the news, it must’ve been quite a shock for him to just leave. But, I have considered your offer and I will accept it.” 

“Oh! Alright, dude- sir. That’s great, I was hoping you would get back to me on that. If you’d like, we can sort through all that paperwork today if you come down to the Agency. Most of our other models have been taken by other agents in our facility, but we figured getting Mason an upgrade in his management would be the best for him dawg- Cipher. I’ll be sure to send you our location so you can swing by and access stuff.” 

“That would be good. I’ll be in touch with you soon.” And with that, he hung up, slipping the phone back in his pocket. His pacing around the office slowed to a stop as he picked his energy drink back up and finally took a sip of it, letting the cold bitter-sweet drink slowly slide down his throat with a content hum. The manager assistant seemed to be kind-hearted, even with a bit more modernized lingo that could bring down their professionalism, they seemed sweet. 

Without a second thought, he snagged his car keys from the desk, walking to the door and grabbing his coat before making his way out of the office, taking the half-full drink with him. It was a quick walk down a mostly barren hall and a trip down the elevator for him to get outside to his nicely polished car, that came in yellow with a single, thick black strip to go down the center of the machine. 

Soon enough, he was driving off above the speed limit as normal, his eyes trained on the road as others got lost in the dust of his revving engine and speed. He had somewhere to be, that he didn’t feel like waiting for. 

_____________________________

AMA was a very tall building in the cityside of Oregon, standing strong with most of the other buildings. The place reminded Bill of New York, plenty of construction that rang in the air, civilians going by, walking down sidewalks or crossing streets with cars zipping past or stalling back due to cursed traffic laws. The only difference from there and a place like New York was the addition of greenery. Trees that were planted in added holes in the pavement, vines that wrapped around the cobble of worn-down buildings, either in spaces that either were no longer used or needed a renovation.

Vandalism was here and there, splattered mainly on the sides of the buildings with dedicated and detailed spray paint, or just the simple obscenity of a dick in the alleyway. Either or, it was all very homey, a place you could go to and feel refreshed or revived to rest in the presence of it. The agency itself had an outer off-white exterior, lots of windows that ranged from short and tall. The building was much taller than it was wide, most likely to take in the full view of the veins that built the cityside. 

Walking inside kept a very clean aesthetic, neatly polished granite floors with soft grey walls, the occasional accent of red to peak around through a single stripe or in furniture. The entryway was an immediate lobby, with phones ringing about and plenty of people walking around. Taking it in immediately, it looked almost like clockwork, everyone having a role in the establishment and moving about. No one needed to interact with each other to know what they were doing, having it built into their very nerves of where to walk, where to set down what, where the destination was. It was poetic in a way. 

The blonde walked over to the secretary, who sat behind a desk with the same granite and grey color scheme. She had paintings of Seaside behind her, showing off the beautiful sunsets that this side of the west coast could provide. The woman looked up from her keyboard, meeting gazes with Cipher.

She hummed, offering a lopsided smile. Her hair was orange, tied up to keep out of her face along to show off her freckled skin and green eyes. “Got an appointment?”

Bill almost wanted to laugh at that comment. He pulled out his business card “No, I’m more of a special case. I was told to come here and see Jesus.”

The receptionist took the card and read it over, her eyes squinting a bit to catch every line of small text before they widened. “Oh, yeah! Soos did mention you coming along for Dip. Go up to the fifteenth floor, it's the third door on your left. It also has his name on a placard so there is no way to miss it.” She handed the card back over, pointing off to the elevators in the far corner of the large room.

Leaving with a simple ‘thank you’ and a bit of an ego boost, he walked over to the steel double doors that would suspend him up the floors. The elevator was quite spacious, reminding Cipher of the ones that one might see in hospitals where they could transport patients on girdles too and fro as needed.

When he made it to the hallway as instructed by the secretary, Bill found himself in a bit of awe. There was an entire wall made of glass, that let people look out at the world from such a high height. People looked like ants from this level, underneath the blond as though he were some demonic dream demon god who could control and manipulate them to his free will.

How cool would that be?

Drinking up just a tad more of the landscape, along with a fresh can of monster, he walked along, getting to the door with the placard of Jesus’ full name. He gave three, humble knocks to the oak, waiting for a moment as shuffling rang from the other side.

The door opened and revealed a friendly face, the man’s cheeks rounded in a large smile. “Mr. Cipher, I’m glad you came so quickly. I knew you’d be just as eager as everyone else to work with Dipper. He’s like, super popular right now, we know you can help him get even bigger.”

Bill returned the smile, looking the man up and down. His ironed button-up and perfectly-sized slacks were the most put-together part of him, his face _nearly_ shaven correctly and what little hair he had hair slicked back in the messiest way possible. Still, he looked and acted friendlier than nearly everyone else he had met in that industry.

“He looks like the type of client I would enjoy working with. He has quite the impressive portfolio already, I plan to help him expand that and dip his toes into other mediums, perhaps, as well.” Bill motioned to the room behind Jesus. “I take it the paperwork is in there? As soon as it’s all settled, I’ll be more than happy to begin my work.”

“Oh, right, yeah, of course. Right this way, du- Mr. Cipher.” Jesus kept his smile as he ushered Bill to his desk. The portly man sat in his leather office chair, clearing his throat and looking down at the stack of paper sitting in the middle of the impressive oak desk. “Everything has been so sudden, these were printed just this morning. I made sure it’s all here, though, don’t you worry about that. We’ll be sure to cross all our T’s and dot all our I’s.”

Bill took his seat across from the man, adjusting his own work clothes to stay prim and proper while they worked. “Of course, I trust your system.” He didn’t, not really. Though, Bill wasn’t one to trust many things. He would just need to read through everything a little more closely to be sure nothing would screw him over in this deal.

Grabbing the stack of papers, the blond began to quietly read them to himself. Across from him, Jesus began to sweat. Everything would likely be there—the chances of them trying anything shady were very low—but in this industry, if someone fucked up, even on accident, it would stay with them forever.

Page by page, Bill carefully read over the deal. He would work closely with Dipper, booking jobs, keeping his schedule tight and tidy, and would make sure the model got the downtime to rest every now and then as well. People in that line of work would sometimes do jobs until they would drop and it seemed this agency was keen on making sure managers knew not to do that to their models.

Of course, if Bill was right, if his planning was all worth it, then Dipper wouldn’t have to worry much about dropping dead.

After what had to be an hour later, Bill finally finished reading through the papers. Jesus had resorted to fidgeting with a pen, chewing the cap and tapping it on his leg. The air around them had become thick with nerves as Bill grabbed a pen from the cup full of them, tapping the tip of it on the corner of the page to be sure it worked.

“This all looks perfect, Jesus. No need to worry. Like you said, I just want to make sure all the finer details are in there.” He smiled again, sure to sign and initial where he needed to without hesitation to show that he wasn’t about to back out of such a deal. Even though he had an ulterior motive for working with Dipper, it still wouldn’t hurt in the long run to work well with someone as big as he was. Getting jobs like this in the future would be easy with this on his resume.

With all the papers signed, Bill placed the pen back into the cup then stood, the papers in-hand. “There, all done. I’m sure working with everyone in Dipper’s network will be a fun experience and I look forward to it.” He fixed the papers, tapping the bottom of the stack on the desk to straighten them out before setting them closer to Jesus.

“Uh, right, of course! We’re happy to have you on board!” Jesus stood, offering his hand out for Bill to shake. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you. I’ll have a copy of these signed papers sent to you in about a day so that we both have all the proper paperwork.”

The blond smirked as he shook the other man’s hand. “Sounds perfect.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next chapter, hope you all enjoy! <3

The sound of a camera clicking usually didn’t bother Dipper. The shutter closing, the lights around him flashing, and the murmurs coming from the small crowd of a crew were all things he had grown used to. It was nothing but a common happening on streets, in work, or during interviews that he heard the repetitive, soft click of a camera. However, as soon as his manager up and quit on him, dropping him like a bag of bricks, Dipper started to get shoved onto any old project.

He had become quite acquainted with the finer things of the industry. Clean, well-polished sets with crews that knew what they were doing had become all he had known with Donovan. The lighting and noise levels were planned around him, keeping his sensitive eyes and ears in mind. Every new one since the resignation of his former manager, though, was so rushed and cheap that they never bothered to adjust their surroundings for his comfort.

Even though he was Dipper Gleeful, one of the biggest models in the _world,_ highest in the statecharts as of this year, he had been reduced to working with amateurs. _Amateurs of all things._ More often than not they fucked up somehow and made the job last for hours longer than it was supposed to. One of the cameramen had forgotten to put a memory card in the camera for Christ’s sake. 

That was the level of incompetence he was working with, and he wasn’t holding any hope that the IQ wouldn’t drop lower. And, currently, he was stuck on the shoot for a _gum_ commercial. Who in their right mind would have thought to put him in a gum commercial? It was so off-brand for him. Beneath his talent. Whoever had taken over the strings for his schedule would need to be spoken to. Hell, at that point he was ready to just force them into getting him only the best gigs because he was _worth_ it. 

“Smile wider, dear,” the director deadpanned. Like many of the others, he didn’t seem to want to be there at all. Every one of the people behind the camera worked as if they were the boring kind of living dead. Their eyes hollow, feet moving them from place to place just for the paycheck. It was a depressing sight to look at, and they expected him to smile at that sore sight.

“We’ve done this take a hundred times, my cheeks aren’t exactly going to work as I want them to after hours of smiling.” Dipper huffed and shook his head a little, not expecting the bored director to respond to his complaint. He forced his smile again, delivering the line as cheerily as he could while looking right into the camera. “Spearmint Bubble not only helps fight bad breath, but this wonder-gum also helps you keep a whiter smile.”

Every word made it harder and harder for Dipper to hold his smile. He wanted nothing more than to walk right off the set and never look back at the zombie-filled place. The crew having high-energy had never been something he cared about before, but with every single soul on set lacking even an ounce of fun or life in them started to drain him as well. How they managed to get anything done was beyond him.

Unlike other directors he had worked with, this one didn’t seem to like to communicate his vision for the stupid commercial. Even when Dipper thought he had done perfectly—which he _always_ did—the man yelled for a reset and wanted another take. Dipper had lost track of how much time had passed when he finally called it a day and got up out of his chair, leaving without saying much more than it was a wrap. He even left the crew for all the cleanup, what a dick.

Never had Dipper been treated so coldly, as if unwanted or another stupid amateur. Even during some of his worst gigs, people hadn’t been so dismissive of his very existence. With a stare of disbelief, the brunet went to the table that held his bag, digging into it and yanking out his cell phone. In no time at all he had it pressed against his ear, ringing loudly as he grabbed his bag and stormed off to his car.

“You’ve got Soos, what’s up du-”

“Who the _hell_ did you hire?” he snapped. “I have gone from working with places like Vogue and going down catwalks to this rinky-dink place with a director that’s just asking for someone to poison his coffee.” With all the work he had done over the years, Dipper had been able to afford a car that fit his lifestyle. The thing practically purred every time he pushed the button to turn it on, the engine a wonderfully silent but powerful hum around him.

Soos stammered on the line for a moment before collecting himself. “I-I contacted one of the biggest names I could find, I thought he’d put you in good hands, I swear. His name is Cipher if you’ve ever heard of him. I can get you his contact information if you want, dude.”

“Yes, I would _love_ that, Soos, I really would.” Dipper was going to tear Cipher a new one as soon as he got ahold of him. What kind of agent got their hands on a prize like him and put him into a fucking _gum commercial_? Cipher was an absolute clown of a manager and they would need to have a real heart-to-heart about just how much of a fucking clown he was for this slip up in scheduling.

“O-okay, I’ll text it to you.”

“Good. Bye.” Dipper tossed his phone into the passenger seat, taking in a few steady breaths to calm himself. Getting too angry would be counterproductive in the long-run of things, especially with making his argument as clear as it could be with all this swirling rage. Cipher would get a harsh telling, but he had to be sure to think through his demands so that they would all be loud and clear.

He could hear his phone ding, Soos texting that bastard of a manager’s phone number, but he wasn’t going to pick up his phone again when he was on the road. He would prefer to keep all his attention on all the other cars on the road and not crashing and hurting his nice car rather than Cipher and delivering his case, thank you very much.

Finally, he turned off the freeway and made his way down to the building of his next photoshoot. Even this was an oddity; he never was set to do two things back-to-back. Donovan had always been sure to give him at least an hour of time between the projects. He remembered the man using the analogy of the brunet being a cat, who could only handle so much petting and labor before needing their own break, otherwise, he’d hiss and scratch.

Well, that was the analogy he used before his sudden leave. It was beyond unexpected, he had Donovan as his manager for years, and now it felt like everything was going south without the man. 

The building that the shoot was supposed to take place in wasn’t too big, quite minimalist actually. Although the outside of it looked to be a hooker house with some of the worn-down features and small parking spaces, it wasn’t too bad. His jaw was tender from smiling for so long, so God forbid he’ll have to do more of it.

Picking up his phone from where he had retired it on the passenger seat, he leaned back into the seat and went through the texts from Soos, having a plethora of apology messages from the assistant of how he was only trying to do what he thought would benefit Dipper, and this wasn’t meant to hurt him. It wasn’t like his anger was directed at the guy anyway, it was that no good, jackass, clown, annoying dickhead that he now had to call _manager_ that- 

“Bill Cipher here, talk to me.”

And that was when any of the rope had snapped, dropping him into the harsh cascades of sheer rage. How fucking dare he sound so nonchalant over the phone? What fucking ego did this bastard have to talk like he was on top of the fucking world, or like he was filing his nails like some schmoozing housewife and talking a hairstylist?

“Oh, Bill Cipher is it? Just the guy I wanted to speak to! This is Dipper, aka Mason, aka the person, you stuck in a grimy room with a hoard of zombies for a camera crew! Who the hell do you think I am for you to send me to such a vile, crude place with such low-level amateurs? They treated me as if I was wasting their time! I’m pretty sure my dazzling smile has now been torn to shreds, like how I’m going to tear you a new asshole for even considering putting me in such a careless work environment!”

There was a moment of silence before the male on the other line clicked his tongue in a seemingly dismissive manner. 

“Okay, so I can tell you’re very upset-”

“You can tell?” he spat out, purposely sounding sarcastic. He could hear his new manager let out a sigh before adjusting the phone.

“Listen: Exposure is exposure, kid. If you want to stay on top of those charts then you gotta stay with the trends, it really doesn’t matter these days what you do, people will buy it in heeps; simple science of supply and demand. They demand to have you in front of their screens, then we gotta find how to make you even more international than you are. Maybe a gum commercial is a bit out of your forte. If you wanna bitch and moan about it more, I’m close to where your photoshoot is supposed to be, rant to my ears off, Sally.” 

The fucking audacity of that man. Dipper could feel his face getting hotter with every second he was on the phone with the asshole. “My name isn’t Sally, it’s Dip-”

And then the line had cut, a small window showing on the setting tab of his car saying in bold letters **CALL ENDED** and he wanted to scream at that very moment. Cipher seemed like a total _joy_ to work with, who probably spat on babies just for the hell of it. He most certainly was going to talk his manager’s ear off, but first, he needed something cold and caffeinated to soothe his nerves a bit more.

Only a short window of time had passed for Dipper to take a quick pit stop to the nearest Starbucks for him to get an iced vanilla bean frap, which he vigorously drank down on his drive back to the shoot. The cold of the beverage made quick work to cool down the heat that had risen to his cheeks, and the taste was slowly soothing the rage that had built up tension in his muscles and skin. Scowling wasn’t good, it would make him look unpleasant to be around, which didn’t make sales. He had to chill the fuck out. 

By the time he had returned to the minimalist building, he could already see an overpriced yellow with a black-stripe car that just seemed to yell that a high-level of attention-seeking had rolled into the lot.

With an annoyed sigh, he got out of his vehicle, taking what was left of the sweet drink with him and walking along to the car. It was a sports car for sure, expensive, the sign of wealth that Dipper would expect that the man, much like him, enjoyed flaunting. Though he just knew that nothing could beat the perfect thrum of his engine, and that gave him a bit of a good pat on the back to know as he made his way along to the car.

The driver’s door popped open and out came a tall, blond male. Dipper took his time to examine the features and bulk of his frame. Tanned skin, honey eyes, blonde hair that looked to be dyed from the black roots that just barely peeked out. A strong build was accentuated through the neat slacks and button-up that Cipher had on, and all the small features of his face, like his nose and jawline, were strong and defined. They looked like they had been chiseled by a deity, strong, rough features that were powerful, yet simplistic. He had a rockstar resting in his left hand and held his keys in the other.

Cipher seemed to take his time looking his client over as well before he flashed a lopsided, big grin. He held his right hand out and naturally the brunet took hold of it and gave a firm shake.

“Pleasure to meet ya in person, Dipper. As you may know, the name’s Bill Cipher, and I’m your new manager,” the man said in his annoyingly smooth voice.

Dipper scoffed, pulling his hand away a bit early before taking out some hand sanitizer, wiping them down just to add to how he thought Bill was a germ. “Oh yes, I am _very_ aware of the change. I went from having impeccable management to having you. An absolute, mindless, corporate brat who-” 

“Yeah, yeah, we can go through it all later! You still have a photoshoot to get to!” The blond swung his arm over Dipper’s shoulders, starting to usher him along toward the building. He chatted on and on about nothing that Dipper found to be important, occasionally taking swigs of the energizing beverage.

What was this guy’s problem? First, he says he’s gonna come along so that Dipper can rant and possibly show him the right way to run his scheduling and now he’s talking like they’re old buddies and nothing happened. What was the point of this clown even showing up if not to fix his shitty misjudgments of what he was working with?

“Anyway, I told the guy I didn’t even have the lizard anymore, and that’s how I got a scar on my inner, right thigh.”

Dipper had just tuned back into what Bill had been saying, blinking at the man and his ability to have gone so far off into the left-field with what was supposed to be a serious conversation. “Look, mother fucker, I’m already over this,” he warned, pointing right at the blond’s nose. “I may not look like much, but I can make your life a living hell if you don’t start at least _trying_ to work with me.”

Bill’s stupid smile didn’t falter in the least bit, his satisfaction like that of a cat who caught the canary. “Aw, of course, I’m taking this seriously! I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t care, kid.” He reached up and ruffled Dipper’s hair, his long fingers getting caught in his curls.

Every ounce of Dipper screamed for him to punch Bill square in the side of the head, however, he couldn’t just kill the man like that. With his strength, it would be messy and he was _not_ about to ruin his shoes. They were brand new and were worth way more than this man’s life.

“Don’t ever touch me again,” he scoffed. “I am Mason Gleeful for fuck’s sake, I thought my new agent would have at least an ounce of respect for me and what I do. You think someone that looks like me should be working these shoots?” Dipper gestured at the run-down building. “This place looks like it could be in a horror movie!”

“I thought you liked horror.” Bill raised a brow, his smile shrinking ever so slightly. “You post those bloody pictures all the time, why’s a place like this any different from a shoot like that?”

“Those are controlled messes.” He pointed out with a small sneer, looking back over to the worn-down building where his next shoot was. This man was just asking to be the next body in one of those bloody shoots. Dipper had too much pride to let someone like Bill walk all over him and wasn’t about to let this matter slide.

Cipher was very lucky that he had another photoshoot straight away if it had been any other way, then one of those bloody scenes would be put on his social media, and it wouldn’t be some random face to the unknown. 

_____ 

This was even worse than the fucking gum commercial. 

What was meant to be, in Ciphers’ words, _“Much more relaxing for your tastes. I’ve seen this crew once or twice, they’re pretty good at keeping a better atmosphere,”_ and that eased Dipper's mind just a bit. Even with the strange entrance of using the backdoor instead of the front, the crew was a big improvement to the lifeless ones from his other shoot. 

What little ol’ Cipher failed to mention was that the shoot was taking place _outside_. 

“Are you fucking mad!? I am not doing a photoshoot outside! Sun exposure is going to give me wrinkles! I refuse to turn into an old, nasty prune! Have you ever heard of tan lines? They are absolutely dreadful for someone like me! Are you even mentally aware of how pale my skin is?”

Despite Mason’s reaction to hearing about doing this shoot in the outdoors, Cipher seemed quite unamused. Where Donovan would’ve been shuffling to satisfy him, the blonde stood in place like a nonchalant idiot, leaning against a doorframe with his arms crossed with that rockstar still in hand. He had his head cocked, as though he was somehow better than Dipper, which was honestly laughable.

“A summer collection needs a sun. Natural lighting is the way to go to achieve that, not some stuffy stage-lights. Stop getting your panties in a twist over nothing, you could use some more vitamin D anyway.” The tanned male gave a shrug before leaving while drinking down the remainder of his drink, leaving Dipper in the dressing room with the other workers set to get his makeup, hair, and clothing situated. 

_I swear to god the moment I get him alone I will drink him dry,_ he seethed quietly in his seat, trying to re-immerse himself into a book to push back the momentary distress he was facing with the blond. It was a Sci-Fi mystery novel, telling the tale of a man and his sister exploring an unknown planet after years of working at NASA. It was quite enthralling, but every so often he would find himself spacing back into the thoughts of Cipher.

It would be so satisfying to just tilt that egotistical brats head over and bite into it with no remorse. Let the fucker cry even if he tried to hold back his venom from numbing the pain. Look upon with satisfaction as that permanent, shit-eating grin dissolved into a- **_okay_** , he was definitely hungry. He would need to catch a meal after this shoot to take some of the edge off. 

Once his hair, makeup and outfit were all set across his frame, he followed the crew along to the outdoors. Outside, there was quite a setup, a few foil light reflectors to try and get some better exposure onto the shot, two other cameras set away from the main one to take different angles, and a wooden platform that held a layer of green screen for Dipper to stand on so he wouldn’t trip on his heels and for editing purposes. It was a good set up, even if he still despised the fact this wasn’t being done inside. 

He made his way along the grass and got to the wooden platform, watching as a woman flipped through thick cards of background choices that were preselected for the outfits to pop out a bit, and he was able to sit down at a stool they had out for him during the wait of preparing things. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Cipher, staring him down with a strange level of disbelief in his eyes, the can hovering just below his lips.

“Why are you wearing a dress?” he asked.

The question might’ve insulted him if he really cared what the fuck his manager thought of him. It was his turn to be a bit cocky. With a hum and a tilt of the head, he looked over at the male without second care to look down at the dress he had on. 

“I look good in everything, Cipher. This is part of the summer collection, it looks good, so I will wear it. You should know from my portfolio that I tend to dress in feminine styles as well, that is, if you actually cared.” He turned away to finally appreciate the dress he was in. It was certainly a soft, short summer dress. It easily waved and moved with each step he took, forming a sort of teacup shape if he were to spin.

The color came in a soft, baby blue, with yellow and orange flowers to go along the bottom of the skirt and sparsely roam up till it hit the band around his waist. It was all quite standard from there, with short sleeves and a bit of a sweetheart neckline that dipped enough to shill off his collarbone. 

With no more remarks from his manager, the photoshoot could begin. This crew was definitely better, working to keep the atmosphere stable and comforting. They didn’t look as dead as the zombies from before, offering small smiles if Dipper looked at them. The director was much more lively, even getting up from his chair to carefully handle the brunet into the desired pose of his visions for each dress or casual outfit he was fitted into.

It would’ve been the perfect apology photoshoot if it wasn’t outside.

The longer that Dipper was underneath the suns, bright, harsh rays of light, the more it started to take a toll on him. The simple, small throb in the back of his head that could be ignored, spiraled to a full-fledged headache. It got harder to see what he was looking at, eyes glazing over and struggling to stay open. He could feel his cheeks flushing up with waves of heat flashes, and sweat building into his palms.

Sunlight was not good for him in the slightest. It made him feel unwell the longer he was in it. It made him more hungry, more out of his self-control, more into the want and desire for something nicely warm that would go cold with time, that can curdle but be so, so satisfying once you got to the last drop. Just like the last scoop of ice cream or yogurt from a container. 

The strange, dazed expressions and wobbling from the experienced model grabbed some confused attention from the crew and his manager. In what seemed to be a blink of an eye, he was pulled along onto a chair underneath some shade, one of the crew members hurriedly going to get him a bottle of water.

“Woah, what the hell? What’s up with you?” the blond asked with a cocked brow.

Dipper could barely look over his concerned features without a groan, his hair was like a beacon at the moment, and it only made the pounding in his head increased.

“Thirsty,” he mumbled, for what was not disclosed. He needed a drink, badly, that could soothe his nerves and bring his mind back into the right headspace. He needed that miracle elixir that rested in the veins of mortality, that held almost all the creatures tethered to this world carried underneath the skin. The thing that could shake away this heat his body was forming, change the wobbling in his steps to fluid, practiced motions. 

All he got was water. 

It wasn’t what he wanted at all! This wasn’t going to balance him out enough to finish the shoot, it would only be enough to clear his vision enough to stand with a few minor missteps. It couldn’t shake his headache or cure the heat that was bubbling like a hot pot of acid under his skin. Not even close. He could still feel Cipher’s gaze harsh on his features while he drank down the bottle, seeming to notice that it hadn’t done much to his symptoms.

“I think we’ll need to take a break. He probably hasn’t had anything to eat. I saw a diner down the road while driving, I’ll take him there, get a bite to eat, and then we can wrap up.” The crew took Bill’s statement as the best plan and Dipper had to be helped along most of the way to the blinding yellow car, not seeing the smirk resting on the blond’s face.

The drive was quicker than expected, the dinner was primarily vacant when the two had arrived. Just like the building of the photoshoot, it was a bit worn down. A dirtied up brick facade on the outside led to a soft brown and cream inside.

It felt like the fifties in a way, with a Jukebox resting in the corner playing old classics, the floors were carpeted and just a touch uncomfortably sticky, with booths and a few stools that sat at a bar that had a wall of different, alcoholic choices. 

Dipper was led off to one of the booths in the corner, most likely so then they could stay away from the masses and not be recognized. He didn’t care about when the server came along, who Bill seemed to be talking the ears off of while just trying to get himself an iced tea. He could give less of a fuck when babies cried, couples talked about strange subjects, or when he could hear the executive chef in the back calling out the orders. 

All he cared about right now was meat. 

Prayers seemed to be answered when he opened the beaten, dingy menu. An array of selections of different types of steaks, cuts, and ways it would be prepared showed up. Though he didn’t need all the options, he just had to find the one that could be the rawest and most basic. Which turned out to be a simple, steak, green bean, and mashed potato dish that he barely skimmed the name of to remember properly. 

“Are you sure you want it rare?” the server repeated in disbelief, holding her pen hesitantly above the small notepad she took orders from. Ugh, why did he have to repeat himself? He said what he wanted to get, and he wanted it _now_. 

“Yes, a rare steak. I don’t want it medium or well done, _rare,_ ” he reiterated, closing the menu and handing it to her.

She still looked hesitant but wrote what he wanted and took the menu. Dipper didn’t even hear what Bill had ordered for himself, too busy laying his head down on the washed down surface of the table, feeling like he was waiting hours for a piece of practically raw meat. 

It was a godsend when it arrived. 

His food came before Bill’s but he wasn’t about to go and wait for him to get his meal. The moment it was put down he was picking up the hunk of chewy, uncooked beef with his hands without a second care in the world. Once his teeth sunk into it, he wanted to fucking moan from the rush of juices that filled his mouth, primarily being blood.

The brunet practically tore into that piece as though he was a barbarian, chewing messily down the contents, savoring the protein and the blood that kept dripping down his lips and flowing down his throat. For a good two minutes, he forgot about Bill’s entire existence, far too transfixed with feeding himself, refreshing his palette and getting his mind back into a space of relaxation, where he could control it.

From across the table, a snicker was what broke his thoughts. Dipper would never admit how bewildered he was when he heard the sound because he was so stuck on eating that he forgot that someone was watching him. But there the blond was, head resting on his hand and elbow pressing against the table. His eyes held a menacing glimmer, something that showed knowing. His grin never failed, and his face spelled danger while fingers ran along the rim of another energy drink.

“Special diet?” he asked, his grin turning full of crisp, white teeth as his eyes studied any of the brunet’s movements.

He carefully swallowed, feeling extremely refreshed with the food he had taken in, even if it wasn’t the type he normally enjoyed to have. _Fuck_ , this was bad. No one could know about this. No one could know about-

“Yeah…”

And that’s where they left it, with an awkward chuckle and a strained silence, Dipper ate the rest of his food, taking the potatoes and green beans in a to-go box to just be thrown away later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are very appreciated! <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chomp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This gets spicy, be prepared mother fuckers. -Rose

Only a few days passed before Mason Gleeful had reached his breaking point. Despite his constant complaints to Cipher of the lack of high-class shoots and professionalism, the blond didn’t stop putting him in shabby, ameutar shoots and commercials. From that pesky gum commercial to perfume ads and appearing on billboards, all of them just seemed less than up to par with Dippers standards.

It was stressful and beyond annoying for each day that passed to hold some form of bullshit. From hour-long shoots due to lack of experience to more half-dead crews and strange requests, they all in some way lacked what Donavan normally had provided him.

Good photoshoots and screening times came sparingly and he wished that it wasn’t the case. Cipher heavily relied on exposure, doing quantity over quality. Most of the time, he forgot that he was working Dipper down to the bone, with Soos reminding him to get him his normal spa check-in’s to reduce stress and even just a break to read a book or mindlessly scroll on his phone.

Saying he needed a break was an understatement, he needed a whole vacation at this point. Though he wasn’t just going to run off like his pesky former manager, he had much more dignity than that. So, catching some prey and going to his favorite library would have to do for today.

Despite Dipper’s love for modernized things and clean places, he couldn’t help but become enamored for a well kept, vintage style. Although the place he frequented was smaller than many libraries in the area, it was cozy in its own contemporary way. Deep wood was accented and distressed at corners, with soft birch wood floors and a few hung-up animal skulls. It gave off a sort of log cabin aesthetic. Soft piano and violin played over at different speakers spread out the building.

Computers were kept on the main floor, where there was a small cafe for people to order some basic americanos and hot chocolate while they worked. The second floor was much smaller but was mainly kept for reading, with a lot of philosophy, science fiction, and poetry books were kept.

Bean bags and soft seating were also strewn about, and even a few bay windows were set out so people could lounge and appreciate the view of the cars passing and walking pedestrians.

Dipper walked along the long, hallway-like paths between bookshelves, trying to find something interesting to read. It was always difficult for him to find a new book to get into once he completed the one he had started reading. His standards for a good piece of literature were high and unless it met that desire of perfection, he wasn’t about to waste his time getting immersed and a few chapters later wanting to claw his eyes out of his skull.

From thick books of Edgar Allen Poe’s poetry and lengthy Stephan King novels, nothing was truly catching his eye. Most of the ones that did make him pick up to read the back description were either one he had already read or felt like something that he would tire reading. His eyes always started at the cover, if an author couldn’t draw his eyes in with a good cover, he wasn’t going to waste any of his time trying to get into it.

“They should really update their selection,” he murmured as he picked up another book from the shelf. The cover was a deep blue, a space theme of a background with designs of gold that you would see on your grandma's furniture.

“The Chaos of Stars, by Keirsten White,” he flipped over the book to read the back, “Isadora’s family is seriously screwed up- which comes with the territory when you are the human daughter of Egyptian Gods Isis and Osiris.” He hummed. This was certainly one he hadn’t read yet. The cover was beautiful and the description seemed eye-catching. 

“That one is actually pretty interesting. You should give it a read.”

Dipper didn’t need to turn around to know who it was, he had become well aware of the male’s voice. The one that was ruining his career, who focused so much on just getting him on every screen rather than letting him have breaks. The blond-haired, amber-eyed, tan-skinned bastard who was now his new manager and fucking everything up in the process.

When he turned around, he wasn’t an ounce surprised or startled that Bill Cipher had been standing there, his permanent Cheshire grin still plastered in place. He had a goddamn BANG energy in his hand, and it was one of the most annoying things to Dipper for no reason. Did this guy seriously drink nothing but energy drinks? Maybe it would work in his favor, if Bill drank enough of them, he might fall over in a heart attack and be out of Dipper’s hair.

His eyes narrowed into harsh slits, and despite his shorter stature, he straightened his back and crossed his arms in a show of dominance, his head tilted back in a cocky gesture as he stared down in honey eyes with his own glacier blue.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

The blond let out a small chuckle of amusement, reaching over and ruffling Dipper’s hair—the thing that he precisely told him not to do—before he pulled out his phone. With a few swipes he was showing Dipper a tracker, a red dot amidst the google maps, right where he was in. 

“Just checking if this little gadget works. Soos told me that the old fuck—Donovan or whatever—kept a tracker on you so than during big shoots and stuff he wouldn’t lose sight of you. A little safety net in case someone tried to give you some nose sugar. Considering the fact we have a party coming up, I figured tapping into one of these would help me make sure you aren’t gonna get fucked for free.”

Dipper knew about Donovan having a tracker on him before, he had explained in-depth that it was for safety measures, just as Bill described. But there was something chilling about Cipher being able to keep tabs on him like that as long as his phone was on his person. With how much work Bill was doing for exposure, he didn’t want to end up with his nudes leaked or address doxxed just as some big publicity stunt. There was just a little thing ebbing at his mind that made him positive Cipher would pull some weird bathwater selling shit. 

“Well, you found me, you know it works, now piss off. I’m too busy to deal with you,” the brunet dismissed quickly, walking past the blond with irritation rolling off his frame. He wanted Bill to be the one to go to Hawaii without telling anyone instead. If he chose to stick around, he wasn’t going to be able to hunt, and he’d have to stick with less-than-up-to par raw steak to get his fix. Sure, it worked, but it wasn’t the option he normally went for. Steaks could only hold one up for so long.

Bill let out a dismissive hum, and he could hear the soft creeks of the birch floor from Bill’s footsteps as he trailed behind. “Nah, I don’t think I will. You’re gonna be stuck with me for today, some nice manager-model bonding time.”

Dipper couldn’t help but grit his teeth in response to that, basically stomping on to one of the bay windows and taking a seat.  _ That isn’t a fucking thing! _ He thought bitterly in response, sighing into the soft cushions provided around the glass. Hiking his knees up, he rested the book against his thighs and flipped the hardcover open to start flipping to the introduction.

_ If he seriously needs to have some weird manager time with me then he has to know that he’s doing his job horribly, _ his mind added on, making him shake his head and grunt before letting himself fall immersed into a new world all over again.

He could give up everything electronic on this earth, phone, computer, cameras, photoshoots, all of it really, as long as he had a book under his arm. Being able to push himself into a new world, with new laws and expectations, was an invigorating experience. You get a glimpse of what’s in someone's head, unravel the pages of reality by their design.

Maybe it was because he was a sucker for reading about the main character. Center stage, all eyes on them in a new world. Whether it was them adapting, or knowing and working with their terrain, being able to interact the same way you could in real life, depict things true to picture, was astounding. It probably also had to do with the fact he adored to be in the spotlight too, and his old theatre brat tendencies from High School. When a character shilled that off, then he could see some of his kickass self in it too.

Every once in a while, he could feel Bill’s eyes glued into his figure, along with the overexaggerated slurps of the male drinking his BANG energy, but he did his best not to be bothered with it. The true bother for the moment was his hair. It was getting long, and with his head tilted to look down, the curled mop would fall over his eyes and take over his vision. His hair grew in record speed and he would normally have frequent haircuts booked between shoots. Since Cipher was now his manager, he wasn’t getting that same luxury before, between, or after work.

His hair was just long enough to be pulled back into a small ponytail, and with the hair tie he always kept on his wrist being a good resource, he was able to easily tie it up and out of the way. No strand went out of place from his expertise, and he was able to get back into what he was doing without brown strands to cover his eyes. 

_ What even goes into setting up a haircut? _ It was something he never had to think about, simply because he always had someone doing that for him. He had no clue what place he frequented other than his hair stylist’s name, a young man who many called Mermando from how he normally makes mermaid-inspired hairstyles. He didn’t know how to properly schedule it, or frankly even set the reminder on his phone calendar. People did that stuff for him, what was the point of needing to know?

Everything was suddenly so distracting. From Cipher’s scrutinizing eyes that were still burning into his skin, obscene sounds of the blond’s mouth on the lip of the can, the way the book felt almost weightless in his lap, the cradle of the cushions along his spine. The words in the book became insignificant to the sudden rush of spacial awareness, and it all spiraled into his mouth. It felt so fucking dry, lacking something that he knew he was missing. He hadn’t found prey yet and barely had anything to supply him aside from some steak from the other day.

Closing the book, he got up, a wave of dizziness hitting his senses. Despite it being cloudy, therefore the sun not being able to mess with his head, he still felt so parched, dehydrated and off. He steadied himself, looking at Cipher, who was still closely watching him, looking into his eyes as if he was searching for something, expecting an answer. He didn’t get up, he just sat in his chair.

“I’m going to find another book,” he used as an excuse, turning a bit too quickly for his liking before trekking down the same pathway full of books. There were some people in the other aisles but he was just trying to get far, far away. He needed a moment to himself, to get himself the fix was too risky with that bastard of a manager trailing everywhere. But the pang in his mouth, how sharp his teeth felt as if ready to even stab himself to get what they needed. It was torture. 

A heatwave was the thing to crash over him and make him cease walking. It came so quick, blacking out his vision and making his normally strong and assertive limbs feel weak. God, he was helpless in this hunger, he needed something, anything.

Dipper Gleeful was sitting on the floor, trying to shake the black, tingling fog that was resting in the corners of his vision and making it unbearable. Shaky breaths were all he could give at the moment, that came out like a fog on a cold winter's night. His nails felt like they were curling, elongating, sharpening. But it didn’t feel like his nails, despite that being where the growth took place. It felt like it was above it, and he knew it was a frozen edge that had followed rather than something human or normal.

His hands were tingling with a level of numbness, and if he could see correctly he was sure if his vision wasn’t so horrid and shaky then he would see his veins edging out in a bright blue, his skin turning paler and paler and lips possibly more blue from frostbite. The heat was still raging his skin, yet everything externally made him look like a corpse from a cold night. 

“Woah, what the fuck is up with you?” came that stupid,  _ stupid  _ voice of his manager. God, why did he have to be here? Why did he have to smell divine, like fruit covered in sugar? He could smell the blood pumping underneath his skin and even with Cipher standing a good bit away, his heartbeat was ringing clearly in his ears.

**_Thump… Thump.. Thump.._ **

So calm, so steady and sure of himself. He acts like nothing can hurt him, that’s he’s so high and mighty, an impenetrable force. Blue eyes are starting to settle in the vision, and now he can truly see his hands. He can see how lithe and scarcely thin they look. His veins are still a bright blue, and they stick out against the purple of his palms and the rotten black of his fingertips. 

**_Thump… Thump.. Thump.._ **

The sound continues, echoing, etching further into his skin. It hasn’t deterred from the anchoring calm, and he can hear how it gets closer, step by step, hanging over his frame. He doesn’t want to be turned around, but when Bill puts a hand on his shoulder, he can feel how hot it is. It feels like a boiling day under the sun, the pulse that is still so calm and sure of itself, is suddenly speeding up. 

**_Thump, thump.. Thump, thump.._ **

“What the fuck is wrong with you? You feel frigid.” The smell of autumn has become intoxicating and the parched desert of Dipper’s mouth suddenly filled with saliva. There is a power that courses through his veins, and a biological part of him that cheers on and on to the sensation.

_ Prey. _

Faster than what many could comprehend in a blink, he was pressing that good for nothing blond pressed up into a wall. Despite the fact that he’s shorter than his manager, the grip and force of his hands are keeping him in place. He probably looked wrecked, hair still pulled up, pupils dilated and mouth breathing fog like a thirsty fucking dog.

**_Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump._ **

His heart rate is picking up. The elusive smell of blood is filling Dipper's nose, and he truly struggles to even keep his hands steady. As his body shudders he gains a surge of confidence, grinning just as Cipher would, maybe even a bit lopsided.

“You’re so fucking nosy, you know that Cipher? Can’t keep your nose in places they shouldn’t be, just loving the publicity.” His voice comes out breathy, it isn’t purposeful, but he can’t deny it doesn’t seem to bring the blond further into this. He’s pressing closer, purposely pressing his chest to the others. Their faces are mere inches apart, and the male can take in each foggy breath that the brunet lets out. 

**_Thumpthump, thumpthump, thumpthump._ **

It’s still quickening, falling into a high crescendo to where the room seems to ooze the scent of life, of joy, of all things that people are selfishly keeping to themselves. He needs a taste and he needs it now. He presses his mouth to the manager’s pulse point, relishing in feeling the steady beat underneath his lips as he sucks and licks, working to get his saliva across it, to spread his venom, numb it. Maybe he’ll think it’s just a hickey. 

“You really…get on my nerves,” he finds himself mumbling in between, licking his sharpened teeth in haste as he works on how he’s holding the manager to the wall, so one of his hands can tilt his head along and away. He can tell that Bill is watching, staring at him with those still, intent eyes. Not reacting, as if he finds this entertaining, or he’s been waiting for this. 

**_Thumpthumpthumpthumpthump_ **

His teeth edge along to find a good ridge to sink into, scraping along soft, tanned skin until there is an even strip of skin. With one more solid lick, he opens his mouth wide, far too out of it to really think of the space they’re in, or to really care.

Just as he can only prick, get the smallest drop of blood into his palette that seems so, desperately refreshing, like watermelon during a hot summer day, a shrill squeal breaks through the air, and Dipper whips his eyes around with a murderous gaze. 

Though, he’s positive the fan of his could hardly care of the expression on his face. 

“Oh my god! It’s actually you, I can’t believe it. I’ve loved your shoots for so long, is this one in the works right now? That's so cool!” 

He was still so hungry,  _ starving _ and ready to kill. But, publicity is publicity, and he knows Cipher will have a fit if he doesn’t play nice. Not to mention he likes his job—shitty manager or not—and would like to keep it.

So, he lets go of the man he was just seconds ago pressed into, walking away from the smell of pulsing blood and fresh fall in favor of talking to the fan. He indulges them for a bit and even snaps a photo despite his growing, painful hunger. When they were sated with his kindness, Dipper made his way down the stairs and out of the building, his book back in hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, comments appreciated ;)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter in which Bill is soooo classy lmao
> 
> Hope you're all doing well in these crazy times and that you enjoy this chapter! <3

If there was one thing Cipher hadn’t been expecting, it was for Dipper to lose his cool in the middle of the library. Of course, no one had really experienced a brief loss of control from the model. A fan had interrupted, saving Bill from a nasty bite, but they hadn’t noticed what was really happening.

Hell, Bill had hardly any time to think, his body responding  _ way _ too much to Dipper pressing him against the books and licking his neck. Vampires weren’t usually so brash and frankly, he’d never worked so closely to one before. Most of his experiences with vampires were short-lived, Bill getting the proof he needed before killing them and taking what he needed.

Dipper, on the other hand, was much harder to deal with. He wanted to work him to exhaustion, catch him off-guard as often as possible and keep him from biting others whenever he was able to. That time, though, between all the books and soft murmurs of other patrons, Dipper managed to get the drop on him.

The person that interrupted them had not only saved Bill from a bite, but they also allowed him to escape to conceal the unfortunate boner that the vampire had given him. Sure, Dipper was a blood-sucking, unholy creature of the night. But he’s also a hot model, one that had been rubbing up against him and licking his throat hungrily.

Bill had rushed to the bathroom of the library, his pants not concealing much. Thankfully, no one had walked by him or been in the bathroom with him, because no matter what he thought about his hard-on was not going to leave on its own. Not even leaning against the inside of the stall, surrounded by the smell of public bathroom, kept his body from imagining Dipper naked in bed with him, using that clearly skilled mouth of his for other purposes.

Before he had realized it, his hand was over his crotch and Bill was left to take care of himself in the bathroom, silently opening his phone to some of Dipper’s more risqu é shoots. In one of the photos, the vampire had nothing but silk draped over his hips, blood dripping out of the corner of his mouth while his tongue licked his upper lip. His legs were spread and between them sat a dead man, a waterfall of blood over his slumped shoulders.

He should be thinking about killing Dipper, yanking his teeth out and selling them off without a second thought at all. Instead, Bill was panting and coming to the idea of him being the one between Dipper’s legs, making the vampire scream in a much less angry way than he normally did.

By the time Bill had cleaned up and made sure he didn’t look as if he had just jerked off, the stall felt a bit steamier and his phone had several tabs open of Dipper practically naked, one even being a fake but very realistic nude of the brunet. The part of Bill that just didn’t care if Dipper was a vampire or not told him to look into more shoots like this for him. He could see if maybe, there was some for a lingerie company so he could get Dipper into some appealing outfits.

Shaking his head, Bill left the bathroom then the library to cool off, his BANG energy empty and being cast into a recycling bin. He could have a  _ little _ bit of fun with the brunet before things came to an end, but he’d have to make sure he didn’t get too close. Vampires were manipulative creeps; Bill needed to remember that no matter what.

That night, despite thinking about banishing those images from his phone, Bill ended up alone in bed with his hand, all of them open once more with another BANG at his nightstand. Dipper’s pale, spotless skin just called to him, telling him that the brunet wanted to be ravished and kissed on every inch of his body. Even his intense blue eyes lured Bill in like no other vampire’s had before. How was he supposed to get rid of pictures like that? He couldn’t. And he was already looking into getting more done, sending out emails to specific companies that he liked the products of.

But, before any of those shoots, they had a party to attend. Bill’s body demanded he uses the party to get Dipper alone again, but his more logical side reminded him that he should simply use it to tire him out. He had all the proof he needed that Dipper was a vampire—there had been very little doubt even at the start—so all that was left to do was find an excuse for him to wind up dead.

Dressed in his classiest, black, slacks, yellow button-up shirt topped with a black bowtie, Bill made his way out to his luxury car, whistling and twirling his keys in his hand. Dipper had only  _ just _ been informed of this party and was fuming over texts, calling Bill every name in the book for giving him barely any notice for such an event. 

Regardless, Dipper was going to go, but he insisted that Bill give him at least twenty minutes before they left, and he could sit in the living room and rot for a while as some punishment for not giving him enough time to get ready. Well, it wasn’t like Cipher couldn’t snoop during that time. So, despite wanting to rush out and get Dippers’ exhaustion down, he agreed, got the address, and started driving down. 

The drive was a bit longer thanks to traffic, which was just plain irritating. Why do people drive like dumbasses? It’s not that hard to get from place to place if you know your vehicle. For the blond, who owned a nice sports car, he knew how to use it well, and just needed to sit there and let the amazing engine that could speed him past this clog. If there weren’t other cars in the way, anyway. Traffic was just insulting to his car.

Dipper lived in an apartment building in Downtown. Well, it was actually the penthouse of the building he lived in, at the very top of twenty-five other floors. The place resembled a hotel with lots of floors, multiple long windows, and staff that walked around to keep the lobby and other places in tip-top shape. 

Of course the brunet lived in one of these places, he wouldn’t settle for some simple suburban neighborhood, he desired his own little palace on top of the world. Mason Gleeful was the epitome of a spoiled child, who wanted everything and anything to revolve around his needs. He was worth it to an extent of what Cipher was earning from all his shoots, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t a little shit during the process. 

Getting to the top floor was smooth, not a single bump throughout the course of the elevator ride. Once at the top, there was a looming, long hallway with a sparring amount of lighting to a door. The brat wanted some privacy it seemed and didn’t want people just to waltz in at their own command. 

Good thing Bill had the code to the door from now on. 

The code was an easy one,  **1-8-3-7** , once put in the little light next to the keypad went from a blaring red to a soft green. A click rang out to signal the door was unlocked, and once the blond had stepped inside the space he was in a bit of awe.

Everything came in soft yet intense colors in their own right. Blue and black came out the most, but there was also silver and cream undertones to balance it all out. Shoes galore were put neatly on a rack, ranging from simple men dress shoes to pairs of high heels with lots of sparkles and detailing. 

Deep brown wooden floors were polished to perfection, without a single scrape to go across the lacquered gloss put on top. Once he walked out of the entryway, it led into the living room. It was a spacious area, a lit fireplace with a TV mounted above it. Small nick nacks went along the mantel, two candles, a clock, and a photo or two that he would need to get a better look at up close.

The couch itself came in a cobblestone color, wrapping around the fireplace in a comforting way, with indents at each seat to recline back. Though, it wasn’t the fancy paintings, small little items, or sandalwood candles that immediately caught Bill’s attention. No, that was for the terrarium sitting a bit away from the fireplace, to still take in some of the heat but also be far enough to not control its temperature. 

Curiosity took the better of Cipher, and in moments he was walking towards it to see whatever creature could be resting inside. The tank was quite large, having lots of terf, twigs and wood pieces for the long, white, snake to roam about. 

The snake, which he wasn’t sure of the type, was slithering about on the dirt floor of its cage. It stuck out greatly in the contrast of greens and browns, but its skin looked smooth and pristine, with bright blue, slitted eyes to go along. Its tongue would slink out at times, flicking about before going back in its rounded nose.

The reptile seemed to be searching for something and as it slinked around in waring strides, Bill was able to figure out what. In the corner of the terrarium, a little mouse sat in the corner. It was trying to hide with all the greenery, blending in well thanks to its brown coat. That didn’t seem to stop the snake, being able to see the heat the little creature was letting out. 

It only took a few seconds before the snake struck, shooting out at record speed and launching itself at the rodent, it squirmed and squealed, with scratches and struggles against the terf, but ultimately being swallowed down by the slithering creature. 

Bill gave a small wince, squinting his eyes to the initial gorey sight and sounds of the pitiful battle. Though, he gave a small whistle, leaning against the sturdy glass and watching the snake go on and try to find the rest of its dinner. 

“You remind me of your owner,” he mused, but it was quite an accurate picture. Vampires were snakes, stalking and slithering, waiting for just the right moment to make their prey drop. Cold-blooded, horrible little creatures that hide in shadows like cowards, trying to stay away from the limelight of danger. 

“Excuse me, but I would prefer if you didn’t talk to my snake.” 

Well, unless you’re Dipper Gleeful. 

“Isn’t that what I do when I talk to you, though?” Cipher tried to joke innocently, though he meant every word. “Anyway, is his highness ready for the party yet? They’re waiting for us, you know.”

Dipper sported a dress that clung to his figure and ended mid-thigh, a deep blue, glittery thing that Bill couldn’t help but wish was a bit shorter. It had a deep-v neckline that dipped almost all the way to the bottom of his ribs, the back of the dress open to show off his immaculate, sculpted shoulders. He even had a light layer of makeup on, baby blue eyeshadow with thin, sharp eyeliner that made his already intense eyes pop.

“I’m ready, yes. I just need to slip on some heels,” he grumbled, making his way over to the army of shoes. “Are you going to be a dick all night, then? I’d prefer it if you didn’t make me look bad at something like this.” Dipper looked along his selection, occasionally picking up pairs of pumps to look them over before setting it down to look at other ones. 

Bill scoffed, acting offended by such a statement. He put his hand overdramatically to his heart, swooning back “Oh, you wound me, Dipper! How could you think so lowly of me?” he chuckled, seeing that Dipper looked over his shoulder with a very unamused expression. 

“Relax tuts, it’s also my reputation. I can’t be a dick to my client in public, it would just make people talk, and not in the good way.” he hummed, sipping some of his BANG as he walked away from the terrarium, going to the mantel to look at some of the nicknacks resting along it.

The candles sat symmetrically at each side smelled strongly of vanilla sandalwood, hearty and comforting. There was a vase, seeming to be an antic with faux flowers of orchids and bluebells put into it so they wouldn’t need to be changed out. But besides the few big items, there were also turned down photos, still resting where they at a point must’ve been right-side up.

Curiosity peaked in Cipher, and he picked up one of the flipped over frames, examining the photo inside. It seemed to be a family portrait, a professional shot he was guessing, as the family members in the photo all had matching clothes. It had the same color scheme as the house, all sporting neat fashion of dress pants, ties, and dresses. 

Two elder men stood at the back of the photo, looking almost identical, with greying hair and bulky glasses. One of them looked just a tad younger, with their hair styled up and sides shaved whilst the other wore a neat, worn bowler hat.

Each of the two men’s hands rested on the shoulders of the twins below, which was strange. Mason was there, standing below the one that looked a bit younger, his face still sophisticated and dead, it was the girl who had shocked him. Since when did Dipper have a sibling? Or even family? It was never mentioned in his files, in the media, or really anywhere. They looked practically identical, and if it wasn’t for the girl standing a bit taller in heels and having long, straight hair rather than short curls, he wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference. 

Far too quickly, the framed photo was snatched from Bill’s hands, and he was met with the intense gaze of Dipper, glaring daggers into his soul as he set the photo down. His normally short stature was supported with the pumps, making him stand just a bit closer to Cipher in height. 

“I didn’t know you had family. When can I meet them?” he grinned. This was rich! Not only could he take down the brunet, but he could get a whole family of vampires too! That would bring a hefty sum to his bank account, especially if Dipper was an actual pureblood. Although he was a vampire, what percentage of the genetic that ran in him was never answered. The closer the family was to being pure, the more money in his pocket. 

“Never, and it’s none of your fucking business,” Dipper hissed out, setting the photo back down. He looked enraged, with how his face was flushed up, eyes narrow and harsh with his teeth being roughly grit together. God, he wanted to take a photo, it would be some pretty good jack-off material. 

As Bill was going to take another swig of his BANG, Dipper snagged it from his hand, setting it on the coffee table and taking his hand, starting to drag him to the door. He was practically stomping his way there, still seething.

“Let’s get going, we don’t want to be late.” 

Cipher didn’t understand Mason's sudden issue with his family being mentioned. They were vampires like him, almost identical in features and style. And yet he looked so angry, but it didn’t seem directed at the blond. 

His family couldn’t be that bad, could they? 

Street lamps illuminated brightly along Downtown streets. It was so bright at night in Oregon, with how many lights that reflected off buildings, inside restaurants, and came off the headlights of cars. It was like some Paris fever dream, from the aged, 80’s-like lamps still managing to power some of the streets, and others being replaced for the more modern, tall wood posts that had power lines and boxes to keep things generated. 

The party was being hosted in a club, rented out for the night by other models and press alike to have a night of drinking, gossip between companies, and some behind the scenes shots of celebrities. It seemed like something that was actually more of Dipper’s pace, though Bill didn’t care either way. All he knew was that a party was a party and by the end of it, Dipper would be tired.

People milled about while music played just loud enough to overpower the crowd. It wasn’t music one could easily dance to, however, a few models managed to sway their bodies in a decent way to it. Most of the people there took to talking over drinks, though, small groups peppered around the tables or near the walls, all likely making business deals with the comfort and confidence of the wine.

Bill had a large, charming smile on and turned to Dipper to speak, to explain the game plan of who to speak to at the party, only for the brunet to put his hand up to his face.

“I know how to work these, don’t you  _ dare _ try to coach me on this right now like I’m some ammature.” Dipper fixed the bottom of his dress then cleared his throat. “Just let me do what I do and you do what you do, alright? When I’m done and want to leave I’ll come get you.”

“Yes,  _ princess, _ ” Bill snorted. “Just don’t get into any trouble.”

The vampire rolled his eyes, waving a hand at Bill as he walked away. “I could say the same to you, asshole.”

With that, Dipper disappeared into the crowd, weaving around people with ease. Bill stayed put where he was for a moment to watch Dipper walk away. Man how he wished his eyes didn’t linger on the bottom of that dress, the way it rolled so nicely with those pale, perfect hips.

He shook his head, trying to stay a bit more focused on the party. This was meant to tire out Dipper, sure, but he still had a reputation to uphold and wasn’t about to make a fool of himself staring off into space. Or rather, staring off at Dipper’s ass. People would question too much if they thought they were romantically involved and that was the last thing Bill needed while on an already hard job.

A few models approached him near the drink table, the three of them all ladies clearly on their fourth or fifth glasses of wine. The only way Bill could tell was their speech and the slight smell that clung to their breath, their hairdos and outfits still perfectly groomed and pressed. As nice as they all looked, Bill wasn’t about to take on any more models while he had his hands full with Dipper.

“I’ve heard so many good things about you,” one slurred, her deep red dress rubbing against Bill’s side. She was a brunette, her hair pulled into a fabulous bun with sparkly pins in it that caught the light brilliantly, one shining right into Bill’s eye. “You know, I’ve been told I have a pretty impressive portfolio. Maybe you’d like to look at it?”

Bill smirked, his eyes wandering over the crowd. Usually, he’d jump at the chance to sleep with a model. A lot of them did what this one was doing, throwing themselves at him because of his connections. But that night there were too many judging eyes and—as much as he hated to admit it—he wished Dipper was the brunet clinging on him. Why was he so stuck on the vampire? He had never been one to dismiss a lady for a guy, and yet when the model leaned her head on his shoulder, all Bill wanted to do was push her away.

“That sounds lovely and I’m sure you can get my number later, but I should go check on my current client.” Being the gentleman that he always was, Bill grabbed her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Another time, miss…?”

“Ms. Danica Brightstone,” she giggled. “I’ll be tracking you down later then, Cipher.”

“You do that.” Bill winked then wiggled away from the drunk models but not before snagging one of the glasses of wine. An energy drink would help more but he’d settle for now.

Dipper had disappeared and stayed out of sight and the number of people that stopped Bill to talk to him made it that much more difficult to find him. This is why he had a love-hate relationship with parties. There was fun to be had and yet too many people in his way. All of which Bill had to be polite to.

Finally, after his drink was finished and a few people had finally gone from standing to sitting around tables, Bill got word that his current model was last seen walking into one of the hallways  _ away _ from the party with some other himbo. Probably about to grab a bite to eat.

Jealousy sparked in Bill’s chest as he calmly walked towards the direction he had been pointed in. The tacky, cream-colored walls welcomed him to a dimly lit hallway lined with doors, all of which were closed and likely used as either storage or conference rooms. If Dipper were really about to bite someone he would have picked somewhere with a somewhat comfortable place to sit and do it so a conference room was Bill’s best bet.

Each room had a slot on the door where a number or nameplate might go and Bill noticed right away which ones were numbered and which ones weren’t. The numbered ones were the conference rooms, marked for convenience, so he just had to try all of those. Most were locked and one had nothing but empty chairs, however, Bill enjoyed knowing that he had been right about the numbers meaning they were rooms that were in-use.

Finally, the last door on the right opened with a soft click and Bill was met with soft groaning in the darkness. All of the chairs were pushed against the large, oak table except for one where a man dressed  _ almost _ as fancy as Bill sat. Dipper was straddling him, his blue dress riding so far up his thighs that Bill could nearly see his hips. Though, the nicest part of the scene happened to be the way it showed off the vampire’s ass.

Bill stayed frozen in the doorway, entranced and confused by the scene. Why did he want to be in that chair under Dipper so badly? The mystery man being bitten looked half-dead, a miserable expression on his face that was probably from getting blue-balled so hard. And yet Bill still wanted it. To be there where his hands could wander and get that rush of adrenaline like he had gotten in the library.

Once he was finally able to pull himself away, Bill closed the door as quietly as he could and took a step back from it. Dipper had been so busy eating that he didn’t seem to notice him which was nice, but now all Bill could think about was that dress. If only he could have snapped a picture or two. Maybe he’d have to plan one of those naughtier shoots sooner rather than later.

_ Or, _ his mind chimed in,  _ we could do the job we’re meant to do. _

Right. That. There was no doubt now that Dipper was, in fact, a vampire, and very likely a pure-blooded one at that. Bill had to focus so that he could get what he needed then get out of this situation. Things would be able to move forward now so long as he had focus.

But, first, in order to gain that focus back, Bill had to get rid of the growing tension in his muscles from seeing Dipper like that. Surely that other model had to be there still, probably keeping her eye out for his return. And return he would because the more he thought about Dipper straddling him the more Bill struggled to keep his boner in-check.

“There you are,” he sighed in relief when he finally laid eyes on her. “I had to check on Gleeful real quick, but I couldn’t help but come back to such a pretty face.” Bill placed his empty glass on the table she stood next to, combing his hair back with his fingers. “I believe you said something about letting me check out your portfolio?”

The model—whatever the fuck her name was—smiled a dazzling, expensive smile and tucked one of the curled, loose strands of hair behind her ear. “Oh? I didn’t think you were all that interested to see it tonight.”

“I’m  _ very _ interested.” Bill got closer to her, nodding slightly to the same hallway he had just come from. “There are plenty of private rooms that will be quiet enough for us to talk. Would you like to accompany me to one of them?” He held out his hand and she took it eagerly. Models always thought that sleeping with him meant he’d help them out, but Bill knew as soon as he was done he’d forget they had even met.

It was scummy but he didn’t really care. The industry just worked like that and if this model didn’t realize that it was her fault, Bill would be able to focus better and get back on track as soon as he cleared his head, though he couldn’t help but hope that Dipper heard every noise he and this model made in the room one door down from where he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are always very appreciated! <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hope you're all doing well in these crazy times! Here's another chapter of this to soothe the soul <3
> 
> -Robo

“Mason, you need to listen to us for once. We are doing this for the sheer fact that we care about you. Come home already, stop this foolish nonsense of modeling. It isn’t safe for a vampire to perform such activities in the outside world.”

Dipper sat stiffly in his chair across from his family as his hand gripped at the dark cherry wood of the table. Visiting his family was never an enjoyable activity. He loved the home they lived in, though, where his childhood had been spent. All cool tones of black, silver and blue, giving the home a mysterious ambiance. It was all lavish in the mansion, as anything would be in a Victorian-styled home.

He was always seen as the enemy during these little lunches. What was meant to be a relaxing visit with those he was raised with, those meant to love unconditionally, was turned sour through his occupation, his dreams and aspirations. To sit in the shadows and wallow in the darkness for the rest of his life was just not the way he wanted to live. Why sit in an abyss when there could be beaming spotlights? All eyes on him, uncaring of the fangs that rest in his mouth or the craving of blood.

As his eyes glanced across his family, he couldn’t help but feel his throat tighten and his mouth gain a sour taste. His family time used to be filled with such good memories.

His great uncles were simple men. Stanley worked as a self-published writer, normally cooped up in his office with an alias to his pen name, which was just his brother's name ironically enough. He never wanted to be out and liked the simplicity of their home. Stanford worked for a long time at running a car dealership, which had been sold a long time ago in favor of getting away from people. 

Then, there was his sister, sitting neatly between the two. She held the most judging look, her brown hair pulled into a neat bun with a headband to pull back the rest of it. She was swirling a cup of tea in her hand, pinky stuck out all neatly. She acted as though she was so much better than him. 

“Let’s be honest, he already ruined the family name by going out and making all those provocative shots of vampires. You just love putting us in danger, don’t you, Mason? Want to expose us and get us killed?”

He grit his teeth firmly, his eyes turning to harsh slits as he stared at his sister. They normally didn’t get along, there was always a power imbalance. He loved her as family, but god was she a stuck up bitch.

Ford glared at her, shaking his head and sighing, “Enough talk like that, Mabel. We aren’t here to bash him. That won’t solve anything.” Then, he looked back over at Dipper, with almost a pleading stare. “I don’t see your infatuation with human life. Why would you want to live amongst them? They’re so simple and weak. All they ever want to do is hurt us.” 

Stan was mainly silent, adjusting his glasses and watching. He was much quieter than Mabel and Ford, who seemed to be the loudest with their opinions, even if Ford did it in a more mothering way.

  
“Yeah, just like they did with mom and dad.”

Dipper stood up, slamming his fists on the table, snarling at his sister. “Don’t you fucking dare talk about them!”

Mabel just grinned back, eyes still narrow. She was being so harsh, it’s what she always did. She hit low, kicked in the dick, pulled at hair; she wanted to weaken someone in the worst ways, no matter how raw the nerves were.

“Oh, you don’t like thinking about it? How our parents got their fangs ripped out and venom taken for the black market? You wanna end up like them, Mason? In a ditch on the side of the road, without a second thought to what they did, who they loved, or anything?” 

God, he was gonna fucking punch her in the face. He kept his teeth bared, and he could feel how his hands were getting hotter, but he knew that it was the complete opposite with how it looked. Stan glared her down, making her straighten her posture and drink from her tea with a huff.

“You know we don’t talk about that Mabel, that’s not a good thing to bring up.”

She rolled her eyes at the old man, setting her cup down and crossing her leg over the other. “I’m just saying. Mother and father were pretty out too, I would prefer if my only brother didn’t end up like them. If he wants to be stupid and be in the spotlight, then he might as well give me back anything I let him borrow. I don’t want it from a dead man walking.”

“Are you fucking serious?! You’re a literal pornstar and you want to talk shit about  _ my _ job of all things?” Dipper fumed, trying to take in even breaths so that their fight didn’t turn physical.

“It’s not like I go to photoshoots or talk to other people in the business. All I need to do is have a good camera at home and flash my tits. I don’t even need to talk to a soul and they’re begging for more. Plus, it makes a good hunting ground. Not my fault you like things on the edge.”

“Do you even hear yourself before you talk out of that dumb mouth? It’s not as different as you’re making it seem!” 

Ford sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, getting up from his chair and walking over to Dipper. He grasped his shoulders, forcing eye contact. “Mason, stop arguing. Just come home, Mabel may be speaking out of turn, but she’s right. I don’t want to see my nephew going out like that… You have such a good life to live, you just need to come back home.” 

The brunet could feel his body shaking, and despite himself, he stepped back from his great uncle until his hold had slipped away from the table. “Don’t you get it? This isn’t living at all! This is a prison. What’s the point of being undead if I can’t go outside as other people can? Why can’t I be in the sunlight like other people, or live a little? Why can’t I let people appreciate how I look, or go out to parties or do  _ anything _ !? We are stronger than them, so why do you act like we're so fucking weak?”

The room filled with a brief silence, Ford shaking his head in dismissal. He pushed back his hair and looked down at the floor, his shoulders tense. “The outside world doesn’t want us, Mason. We are abnormal. They like you because they think you are human. We will never be desired for what we have, we belong where it is safe. And safety is being as far away from humans as possible. Our worlds don’t mingle; they can’t. This is why vampires marry other vampires, and humans other humans. We would destroy each other.”

Dipper didn’t want to believe Ford at all. He kept his teeth grit, his hands balled into tight fists as his fingers took on the frostbitten look, burning in heat. He was sure if he looked down, there would be ice layering along his fingertips, making sharp points at the end of his nails.

“Then why are we vampires?! Why do we exist if it’s just to rot?! Why can’t I be a human so I can run around outside or do normal things! I want to go in the sun without having a goddamn headache that makes it feel like my brain is gonna explode, or random heat flashes when I get hungry! I’m sick of being like this because all anyone does is want to kill us!? Sure, they think I’m hot as fuck, but they can never love us even with every photo I take where people give positive reviews!”

“We are income, Mason.” Mabel seemed to be getting sick of the bickering, despite her constant contribution. She huffed, leaning back in the structured, wooden chair. “I knew he was gonna be a disappointment. No wonder he wants to be in the stage lights, he ain’t shit to us.”

He was done here. With a sharp turn, he was walking towards the door, despite Ford’s pleas for peace. He couldn’t look back, he wanted to scream at the top of his lungs at that moment. He felt hungry, despite being filled with the warm blood at the party the night before. Even with being able to drink so much, there was still a coldness settling in his skin, the one that reminded him of his undead state.

Once he stepped out of the mansion he walked down the patio and steps, meeting back to the other aged homes. It was a vampire neighborhood, a little getaway for all their existence to be safe. Some called it Monster Falls, but the name never really stuck around for people to take seriously. No mortal knew about it, it was a gated community for a reason. 

He booked it straight to his car, getting in, pushing a button to turn the car on, and then gassing it out. The brunet couldn’t stand being in there for another second, he felt like he was going up the wall in rage, but there was an existential dread building underneath. He wanted to cry, fuck he hated crying, but it bubbled and bounced in his chest, making his lungs tight as his eyes constantly watered to no avail.

Getting back onto the main road was nice, and the radio played soft music that seemed to ease him at the current moment, even if just for a moment. He let his fingers drum along to the tune, and the drizzling rain that started to pour down on Gravity Falls helped keep his mind out of his current mood. He let himself get lost in the world like he would with his books.

Soon enough, he was close to his home, but there was another wave of something in his chest and heart. Loneliness. As odd as it sounded, he didn’t want to be alone. Maybe it was his normal desire to be the center of attention, to have someone understand for once rather than be the person against his desires in life.

The question really was, who to go to?

He couldn’t see Soos today, he was busy on a date with his fiance, Melody. Wendy was off at work, and he didn’t really feel like going in there. Sure, he had plenty of contacts on his phone, but none were close friends. Mainly shoddy fucks, coworkers, modeling agencies, and a few possible hunts to get to.

Fuck, he sounded pathetic. Imagine that? The high-class, respectable hot model Dipper Gleeful, having basically zero friends that weren’t for benefit.

There was only one person that seemed to come to mind, and he really dreaded having a conversation with them. Regardless, he let his pointer finger switch on his turn signal and changed lanes, taking one of the side roads. From small clusters of apartments to simple suburban homes, he was getting close to his destination.

He ended up in the suburbs. It was a very high-class area, complete with a gym, pool, food places, anything for basic needs really or just entertainment. He parked a bit further down the road and once he got out, the sensation of cold winds and pouring rain hit his curls and face at a constant. The sensation was almost refreshing and for a moment he just stood there with his door wide open, letting those small water droplets wash across his face.

Eventually, he gained the will to move, closing the car before it became a wet mess of faux leather before making his trek down the street. Lawns were trimmed and well kept, with flower beds to line along in different colors and types. Some had trees and other lawn ornaments, gnomes, fairies, and things alike.

His clothes were getting wet fast, making the vampire become a tad sluggish from the uncomfortable sensation of the fabric starting to stick to his skin. It was only a few more steps more before he got to the stoop of the stairs. The outside of the home looked surprisingly normal. Floral arrangements lined along the outside of the home’s place, seeming well taken care of with the lawn. There were a few small chairs put around a rounded table, and atop of it a standard chessboard.

Though, Dipper hadn’t really known what to expect with Bill’s home. In all reality, he sort of expected to see total madness, with an army line of energy drink cans and some lawn flourishes that didn’t go together. But it all seemed put together. Weird.

With a deep breath, the brunet took the steps up to the thick oak front door. A modern doorbell was beside it, having a blue light being emitted beside the camera to show it was recording him standing there. He pressed down and waited, adjusting the damp shirt that was trying to fuse itself with his skin. Dipper could hear the soft jingle of the doorbell play, alerting whoever was inside the house that someone was at the door.

It didn’t take too long before he could hear the audible click of the lock from the other side and for the door to swing open. What the model didn’t expect was to see a woman at the door, rather than his dickhead manager. She looked fairly attractive, with long brown hair that was loosely tied up and hazel eyes, but she was half-naked. All that was covering her body from being completely exposed was an oversized shirt, and even that didn’t do her justice, as he could see her marked-up collar and the bruises along the inside of her thighs.

“Oh! You’re Mason Gleeful!” she said enthusiastically, a smile filling her face.

God, he felt so uncomfortable with this woman. He didn’t know her, and frankly, he was not looking his best. She was certainly a model, but he couldn’t remember what magazine or photoshoot he had seen her, just that at some point he’d spotted her in a crowd.

She leaned back into the house with one of her hands grasping the door, calling back out into the home. “Bill! One of your clients is here!” she said with a cheery voice, taking a step back to let the other brunet into the room.

He stepped in wordlessly, looking around the entryway. Soft golds and blacks took over a lot of the decor, the floors were wood and a carpet covered part of the space for people to clean their shoes against.

As Dipper let his eyes scan across the color-coordinated space, the man of the hour approached. Bill doesn’t fare that much better to the woman in appearance. His hair is a jagged mess and he isn’t wearing much himself, aside from some basketball shorts and a tank top. He looks exhausted, with how dark circles rim underneath his eyes, and the energy drink he’s holding doesn’t even seem to be doing much for him.

“What a night you must’ve had,” he finds himself stating without thinking that much, rolling his eyes at the sight of the disheveled two. He can’t help but be annoyed even with lack of reason. What is this woman doing here? For the few weeks that Bill has been his manager, he has never seen him get proactive with someone. Sure, it could be the natural separation of work to personal life, but wouldn’t he have known? 

This shouldn’t bother him, and it isn’t, which is exactly why he slips off his shoes and steps past the tired tanned man. “I need to use the bathroom.”

Bill turns around and he could see him open his mouth to say something, but ultimately closes it with a suspicious expression.

Dipper has no clue where he's going in his manager's house, he’s never been there. Everything seems oddly identical in color, with the number of knick-knacks strewn about, and he’s sure if he wasn’t paying attention to the contents of each room, he would get lost in the sea of yellow and black. He passes by the bedroom, which still stenches of sweat and sex, and a guestroom before he gets to the bathroom. 

He closes the door and locks it tight, leaning his head back on the wood with a soft sigh. Why did he expect Cipher to be alone? He should’ve guessed that someone at the party would want to gain connections and ultimately put themselves up. But with  _ Bill _ of all people? 

With a shallow groan, he pushes himself off the door to look around the bathroom to find himself a towel. He can’t stand the dampness of his hair anymore, and at this point, the air is making his wet skin chill with his clothing. When the brunet does find the towel however, he can see the same colors, all neatly stacked in yellow, black, yellow, black,  _ yellow, black.  _

What is up with him and those colors? Dipper finds himself to wonder before picking one of them up and starting to dab away at his face. He’s sure to be careful on his soft skin to not damage it, before starting to aggressively ruffle and rough up his hair to get the accumulated water out.

The brunet’s mind continues to swim with questions and he decides the moment he gets himself semi-dry that he’s going to leave as soon as possible. He really doesn’t want to deal with conversing with Bill’s fling, much less the blond when he looks so weirdly normal. He didn’t have that outstretched smile that overtakes his face like a maniac, or the overly gelled hair that keeps it all pulled back. Cipher doesn’t look nearly as put-together as normal, like himself. Dipper doesn’t like looking at it, it feels too domestic in its own surreal way.

Just as his hair becomes a stuck out, ruffled mess, he finger combs it carefully until it’s presentable. He could scout around for a hairbrush, but it feels like he doesn’t have the time to look for it. Despite the sluggish sensation in his limbs, the tiredness in his head that makes him not feel in the mood to be sarcastic, he just wants to get out all over again. He can rot in his penthouse by himself with some tacky thing in his wardrobe and read. He should’ve done that in the first place.

Dipper unlocks and opens the door, fully prepared to leave in as much silence as he had whilst entering, but a body is in the way of his exit. He looks up, and there is the same tired, messy blond, standing before him. His eyes look intense rather than playful and sarcastic and Dipper feels his undead heart leap into his throat. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

The intrusive question filters into the air but goes unanswered. Bill isn’t moving out of that doorway and as he sips his rockstar. He scoffs, crossing his arms and looking away from the male with a snide comment. “Nothing is wrong with me, Cipher. I got caught in the rain and needed to dry off.”

Bill must know he’s talking bullshit, because he steps closer, invading further into Mason’s space. Why is he suddenly so forward? He looks so aggressive, frustrated… Oddly enough, jealous. The vampire doesn’t know where that emotion is coming from, but he can see it in the blond’s furrowed brows and posture, the green-eyed monster has clearly taken over. 

“I said nothing is wrong, back off, asshole,” he warns, stepping back and glaring at Bill.

The blond sighs, shaking his head and setting down the drink. His bronze arms are suddenly outstretched and he pulls the model closer, making their noses brush as he looks down at him. His eyes are still so wrongly firm, and the vampire can’t help but feel unsettled. 

**_Thump... Thump... Thump..._ **

He can hear Cipher's heartbeat all over again, just like in the library. It isn’t the harsh pounding that started up when he pushed the blond against the wall and went for a feed. It’s soft, so sure of himself and stable. He holds no fear, even if some part of Dipper thinks it should be fearful, racing, moving with adrenaline before going to flatline. 

“We both know that’s bullshit, you wouldn’t come here if there wasn’t something bothering you. You’re just too much of a stuck up prick to actually admit it. You and your pride.”

Bill sounds annoyed with each word that falls from his lips, but then that playful glint is filling his face again. His overly-full smile is starting to creep along his face and suddenly Dipper is pulled flush against the warm body pumping with blood. The smell of it fills his nose almost instantly and he squirms to get out of the hold. He doesn’t like to be held, affection is unneeded, he just needed presence for christ's sake, not a fucking hug.

“Ugh! Let me go, you motherfucker! I don’t need your weird diseases!” But even with his aggressive comments, Bill doesn’t let go. Even though Dipper is constantly trying to worm his way free, Bill seems to find a new way to hold him, like he’s some toddler having a tantrum that the manager is trying to comfort. 

**_Thump... Thump... Thump..._ **

The lulling heart rate continues with the strong smell still assaulting his nose. Dipper isn’t hungry due to his meal from yesterday, but there’s something about Bill that smells right. From the musk of natural man sweat to the overlaying cologne that leads to his sweetened, sugary blood. It’s magnetizing and it’s making the brunet’s mouth start to build up with a drool.

Instinctually, he finds himself pressing his face against Cipher’s neck, huffing where all the colliding smells seem strongest. It’s like a drug infiltrating his nose, making his body start to relax and his tired mind become befuddled.

Never in their entire partnership had Cipher ever shown affection and it was mutual to Gleeful. They never had a reason to, nor had gotten close enough. The most they had gotten was standing beside each other when going places, as Bill was advocating his presence.

Dipper didn’t even enjoy affection, it was always strange to have someone touch him like this. This was normally a little game he did to get to drink someone's blood. Be affectionate, sweeten the pot, and then take. It was never so lacking like this was. There was no hunger in him, and someone was actually touching him that wasn’t going to be his meal.

Was this what all humans felt?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Dipper, he needed the hug lol
> 
> Thank you for reading! Comments are always super appreciated! <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's more vampire Dipper and Gay Panic Bill™ for y'all
> 
> Enjoy!~

Having the vampire in his home should be unsettling to Bill. The second Dipper came in and saw his fling, Bill should have been filled with a sense of pride for the fact that he had been able to get his mind off of Dipper for a night.

But those prideful feelings fell completely flat and shattered before he had even gotten the other model home. The entire time he was with her, all he could picture was Dipper laying on his bed, the brunet’s beautiful face twisting in pleasure and crying out for more. Even in his sleep afterward, Bill dreamed of Dipper showing up and taking her place.

And then the vampire did. In a way, anyway.

He showed up looking like a drowned, miserable rat—still somehow drop-dead gorgeous, though—and came marching into the house as if he owned the place. Then he came out of the bathroom looking so sad, so defeated and tired that Bill just didn’t have it in him to keep even an ounce of pride in him. Dipper needed a hug, and by the gods, Bill was going to give him one, no matter how much the fucker squirmed and scowled at him.

“I’m getting your clothes wet, don’t you care?” the vampire mumbled out, no longer fighting him.

“I’m wearing my lazy clothes. If I cared about them, they wouldn’t look this wrinkly and used,” Bill snorted. Dipper had finally relaxed against him and didn’t seem to mind the hug much anymore, but at that point, Bill’s sleepless body wanted nothing more than to sit down. The energy drinks could only do so much for him, he needed to relax. Though, the small voice in the back of his head nagged on about how perfect this was.

Having Dipper in his home meant that he could more easily take what he needed. Even vampires were subject to certain things that could be slipped into drinks and Bill knew damn well that he could get Dipper to pass out on his couch, just long enough for him to snag some blood and get his newest product out on the market. At least, enough to tide him over until he got the main prize.

“How about we take a seat for a little while? I’ll make some tea, or whatever your fancy-ass drinks.” Bill moved back from Dipper just enough to look at the brunet’s face, eyeing the way his makeup had smeared from the rain, then tidied in the mirror. It was a true crime that Dipper still looked so hot.

The vampire shrugged, looking around the hallway. “I don’t know, your house is so… boring. A bit mundane for me.” His words had no weight to them, no real venom that Bill could take as an insult to his home. Dipper must’ve had quite the night and the part of Bill that had developed a bit of a crush on him wondered if he could get Dipper to talk about it. Perhaps he could use that as a way to get Dipper to relax and trust him enough to drink the tea and not question the headache in the morning.

“My couch doesn’t bite and the house isn’t about to fall apart around you, so just accept the tea, Princess,” Bill teased. He started to walk back towards the living room, his hand on the small of Dipper’s back. The vampire didn’t argue or fight it anymore, simply staring down at the ground and marching forward.

Like the rest of his house, Bill had decked out the living room with blacks and golds, the two colors crisp and sophisticated, reflecting the way he dressed daily. Save for the days he wore his pajamas or the clothes he had on currently. Those days most people didn’t see him, though, mostly just hookups that didn’t care much about the color of things in his house anyway.

Bill got Dipper to the couch, sitting the vampire down on the soft, black cushions with a sigh of relief. His body wanted so badly to lay back down, to maybe ask someone to order food for him so that he could just be lazy in his room all day. But the only two people there weren’t exactly going to be cool with that. He still had to send the other model home.

“Uh, so... let me get things settled and then I’ll be back with the tea, okay?” Bill took one step back before he heard Dipper snort.

“You mean send your booty call home? You’d think they’d learn by now to do that themselves, but then again she seems pretty desperate to get her nose into places she has no real chance at being.” Snooty as ever, Dipper looked at his nails while he spoke. “And I knew I was popular, however, it’s a bit much to see models out here copying my look. Or did you go for someone that looked like me on purpose, Cipher?”

Of course Dipper would notice that. How could he not, the model—whatever the fuck her name was—had a similar round face, the brown, slightly curly hair, and the same nose. She wasn’t perfectly identical, but she was close enough that someone as vain as Dipper would be able to see himself in her.

Trying his best not to flinch, Bill let out a laugh and waved his hand at Dipper. “A lot of these models just look the same. You know how cookie-cutter the business can get.”

“Are you calling my look basic?” the brunet snapped, accusatory.

“What? No, no, wait, that’s not what I meant.” Bill ran a hand through his hair, taking in a deep breath. He wasn’t about to have this fight. “Look, don’t think so hard about it, okay? She’s just a model that was interested and I wanted some fun. End of story.” Once again, Bill trudged onward to the woman who had kept him decent company, attempting to dig up her name from his scattered thoughts. It didn’t come to him and as he approached her, the brunette waiting by the door with an expectant look. All he could do was smile at the awkward air.

“What’s Gleeful doing here? Did you invite him?” Her tone was far from angry, she almost sounded...hopeful?

“No, not really. We work together, this is normal.” Bill hardly ever had trouble kicking one night stands out, but knowing that Dipper was likely listening in to the conversation made it that much harder to do. Before he could say anything more, the other model was smiling in a sly, sexy way that normally would have interested him. Instead, Bill could feel his chest tighten, readying himself for what he knew was about to come so that he wouldn’t laugh in her face.

“So… Did you invite me over on purpose then? Warm me up to see what I might be down with?” She raised a brow, glancing back at the living room. “I had no idea you two were into that sort of thing.”

Unable to stop himself, Bill let out a laugh, clearing his throat to cover it up. “No, that’s not quite- Look, I had a fun time, but Dipper is here for business. Kind of like a meeting, but casual. You should probably grab your things and go.”

To say the woman looked disappointed would be an understatement. Her shoulders slumped and the alluring smile melted in an instant. “Oh. Well… I guess I’ll go get dressed, then.” Without another word, she walked off, managing to keep any emotion other than disappointment off her features. She was likely embarrassed for even suggesting and assuming. However, Bill couldn’t see it if she was.

With that taken care of, he hurried off to his kitchen to start the tea, knowing that Dipper wasn’t going to be too terribly patient with him if he didn’t get the ball rolling as fast as possible. The sooner he started to put products out, the sooner the higher bidders would realize he had Dipper and would begin to put in offers for the bigger prizes.

The kettle on the stove began to heat up and Bill glanced over at the entryway to the living room. A click from the front door let him know that the other model had left and a small sniffle from the couch assured Bill that Dipper still sat waiting for the hot tea. Sure that no one would see it, Bill reached into the highest cupboard, going for the small bottle of tablets one of his contacts had provided for him.

Whatever mixture of drugs had been pressed into them could knock out a bear. Bill hadn’t tried them on a human yet—he wasn’t sure he ever would—but he was sure if some plain Jane got one in their system they’d be out for a week. Dipper, on the other hand, would just wake up the next day with a headache. His body would heal the small puncture from any needle, and Bill could easily hide whatever blood he took.

Somehow, though, as he poured the tea and watched the tablet dissolve with a little fizzle, Bill’s chest ached at the idea. He was far from what someone might consider a “good person”, but it did seem a _bit_ cruel to be doing this to Dipper when the vampire had come to him for comfort.

Still, the show had to go on. Guilt or no guilt, Bill had clients, and taking blood wouldn’t even bother Dipper.

“Hot tea for the princess,” Bill chimed, weaving into the room with two steaming mugs of green tea. The yellow mug was, of course, his, and the black one ended up in Dipper’s hands, the brunet taking a sip of it right away.

“Hm. Not very good, is it?” Dipper had draped himself quite dramatically on the couch, his perfect limbs poised as if he were at a shoot, modeling the rain that still clung to his clothes. “I guess I shouldn’t have expected you to have any real, good tea.”

Bill scoffed, sitting at the other end of the couch. He blew on his tea to no avail, the liquid still burning the tip of his tongue when he took a sip. “Ah, you see, I _do_ have decent tea. I just figured you could use the warmth of something quick and easy. And you’re still drinking it, so I think you’ll live.”

Dipper let out a long, dejected sigh. “Right. Whatever. I’m too tired for this. I should drink this then go home, anyway.” Quietly, with his lips pressed to the mug, he added, “Don’t even know why I came here.”

Again, Bill’s chest tightened in a way that he didn’t care for. Dipper was a product—a hot one, sure—and he knew it was best to continue to see him that way. So, without actually caring, he made a face that showed he did, leaning closer to the vampire.

“Dipper, I know I’m… Well, I’m _me,_ and I’ve been _me_ about a lot of things, but I think it would benefit our working relationship if you opened up to me a little.” Even while pouting, slowly drinking his tea, Dipper had Bill’s eyes glued to him, watching closely as if the vampire would do something even better at any second. He inched closer, wishing Dipper would move his legs down so that he could sit right beside the brunet.

“I…” He licked his lips, looking down into the tea. “It’s just family drama. My family doesn’t support what I do, basically. My sister was a bitch about it and it put me in a bad mood, that’s all.” Dipper tilted his head back to take a larger gulp of the tea. “She’s a fucking porn star and has the audacity to say _I’m_ the one putting too much of myself out there.”

“How am I not shocked to hear that your sister is a porn star,” Bill chuckled to himself. “That’s not very fair of her, I agree. If she can show her tits, you can show your clothed body.”

“Exactly!” Dipper sat up, clearly ready to go full bitch-mode and Bill took the chance to move even closer. “You know, she’s been doing it even longer than I have,” he dished. “I don’t _care_ if she does porn. I think everyone can do whatever they want with their stupid bodies, but for her to step into my space and say I’m the one being an idiot is ridiculous.”

Bill nodded along, casually putting his arm over the top of the couch. Dipper needed this, that much was obvious, so he didn’t mind letting him vent. To his knowledge, the vampire didn’t have very many close friends and Bill was probably the only one he had to tell all this to. “I take it she thinks hers is somehow better because she doesn’t show much of her face?”

Dipper took another large gulp of the tea, nearly finished with it. His pupils had grown wide and his speech started to slur as he went on. “She thinks she’s _so_ much better than me. I like my family, but fuck she’s such a _bitch_ sometimes.” He paused, finishing off the tea and setting the mug down on the coffee table.

The silence stretched on, just long enough to make Bill wonder if the drugs were acting faster than he thought they would. But then the brunet huffed and crossed his arms over his chest.

“I guess thanks for the tea and listening, or whatever,” he grumbled. Dipper looked up at him, eyelids drooping. “You’re maybe not the _worst_ person on the planet. But don’t let this go to your head, Cipher. You still suck.”

“I do a lot more than that,” Bill winked. They were close, close enough that the chill of Dipper’s skin could creep onto his warm-blooded flesh. The vampire didn’t seem to mind how close he had become, how even though their hips were touching Bill still leaned in for more contact. “You’re a spoiled brat.”

“And you’re a fucking prick.”

And then, they kissed. Dipper’s lips pressed against his, wet from the tea and cold like ice. Bill brought his arm down to wrap around the brunet’s shoulders, pulling him closer and tangling his free hand into the damp, messy curls. Even with the drugs slowly taking over, Dipper made out with him as if he would die right then without their lips and tongues mashed together.

If Bill’s moral compass were any more askew, he would have looked for the fastest way to take Dipper’s clothes off. But, instead, he knew his urges would have to be put on hold. Dipper was slowly but surely becoming putty in his hands and when the vampire pulled back, struggling to keep his eyes open, Bill laid him back on the couch and got to work.

In the closet of his guest room he kept his equipment, the empty blood bags and needles neatly tucked away in a case that made it easy for him to carry it all out to the passed out vampire. Dipper didn’t even flinch when the needle punctured his arm. The dark red blood oozed out, looking like ink being sucked from a pen.

It should have grossed him out, knowing that Dipper didn’t even have normal blood. Bill should have been immediately turned off by seeing how truly dead the vampire looked while drugged. Instead, however, he couldn’t stop looking at the brunet’s legs, how they had slightly parted when Bill laid him down. One day he’d be between them, holding onto those perfect hips with Dipper begging him for more.

But until then, he would settle for his imagination. And having the comfort of knowing that he could look whenever he took blood, which would line his pockets nicely for a while. By the time Dipper got wise to what he was doing, he’d already have made plenty of cash off of him and would be ready for the next step. He just had to keep himself and Dipper in check for a little while longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are always super appreciated! <3


	7. Chapter 7

Waking up on Bill’s couch with ruined makeup, messed up hair, and clothes that were wrinkled to hell and back was, to say the least, not ideal. Dipper had hardly any memory of the night before, only sure that he had gone to Bill’s place. And that his agent had another model in his house when he got there.

The growing headache forced a groan from Dipper as he sat up. Why did he feel so awful? And why was his memory so spotty? He had been crying—ew—then barged into Bill’s place. Then he cleaned up his makeup a little, then…

Then nothing but fog. He and Bill spoke. About what Dipper didn’t know, but he was  _ sure _ that they had been together before he fell asleep. He licked his lips. They kissed. A memory of Bill being right in his face wouldn’t leave his thoughts and Dipper knew the fucker stared at him too much not to be attracted to him, so of course, Bill would kiss him if he got the chance.

But, the worst part was that Dipper had kissed him  _ back. _ What the  _ fuck. _ How off-brand of him to get physically involved with his manager. How… Well, stupid was the only word he could really put to it. Kissing Bill and even kind of liking it could only be described as stupid of him. Dipper Gleeful was stupid. Stupid and feeling quite ill.

“Mornin’ Sunshine,” a grating voice said from across the room.

Dipper’s deadly glare shot to the source of the voice. “It had better be morning or I’m going to fucking kill you for letting me sleep for so long.” Bill stood against the wall, dressed nicely compared to the rags he had been in the night before. “I can’t believe you made me sleep on your couch. Honestly, does this place not have a guest room with an actual bed? I deserve better.”

The blond let out a hearty laugh before pushing himself off the wall, and Dipper now noticed a steaming mug of hot coffee in his hand “There is a guest room, but I didn’t feel like picking up your corpse and taking you there. Plus, the couch isn’t that uncomfortable, you’ll be fine.”

Dipper rolled his eyes, exhaling a sigh while he took out his phone, turning on his front-facing camera to access how he now looked. His hair was a mop of tangled curls, defying gravity with each awkward twist. It looked like it got caught in a tornado. His small amounts of mascara and eyeliner were smeared all about, giving him the complexion of a raccoon.

“You look like shit, here.” The cup was offered to him and Dipper didn’t spend a second thought in taking it. He was sure it would help the groggy fog over his brain, and there was a taste in his mouth that he desperately wanted to wash out. 

He was certain it was from when Bill kissed him. 

The taste was fruity and coated in sugar, much like the energy drinks he saw his manager consume on a daily. A small part of him found it pleasant, which is exactly why he was urgent is taking a swig of the bitter coffee, washing away the remnants of Cipher from his mouth. He couldn’t help but grimace on the rim of the glass, the thought of actually enjoying the taste of Cipher. 

Liking his blood was normal, but liking how he tasted when they kissed, made him want to shudder.

What the hell was his manager doing to him? Not only to his head but what made him pass out? No matter how many times Dipper tried to wrack his brain, only the same few things came to mind. He sat on the couch with Bill while drinking something and-

Drinking something… 

Mason looked down at the mug in his hands, the dark, caffeinated liquid inside suddenly seeming less appetizing. He set it on the coffee table, gripping at his pants and starting to look around his body. A bit of fear started to fill his chest at the thought of Bill drugging him with something, but there was no way any normal date-rape drug would work on Mason. 

Whatever he was given had to be strong, it had to be from the black market, it had to be  _ built  _ for vampires.

_ ‘Does Bill know?’ _ The question popped into his head and surrounded any other that flooded his mind, and when he looked up at Cipher, he was sat on the other end of the couch, leisurely looking at his phone while Mason was trying to tame the whirlwind his brain was going through. 

Hesitantly scooting closer, he cleared his throat “So, Bill, do you know what made me so tired? I mean, I’m quite sure I was wide awake when I came here,” he watched how the other seemed to tense at the question, amber eyes darting up to meet blue. 

“Not sure. We talked for a while and then you just passed out. You probably needed the nap,” he replied curtly before looking back at his phone screen. 

He had to be hiding something. 

The sudden occurrence of him passing out just didn’t sit right in his gut, and the fact that he  _ kissed  _ Bill, he would never do that in a normal circumstance. This  _ had  _ to be his doing, had to be some information he was withholding. 

He got up from the couch without another word, pouting a bit while making his way back upstairs and to the bathroom. Dipper needed to get out of here, but he couldn’t just walk out looking like a mess. The media would talk, someone could take photos and spread them around of him being so disheveled. 

Walking into Cipher’s bathroom seemed to awaken only mere glimpses of memories. He could recall being in here, trying to calm himself down, and then being embraced by the other. The more Dipper tried to think back on it, the more he could only think of the security he felt when being embraced… How warm Bill’s arms were around him. 

Ugh, what the hell did that bastard do to his head? 

Dipper Gleeful was  _ better  _ than this. He couldn’t have feelings for a mere human, no matter how attractive they may be. He would just end up killing him one day when his bloodlust got too intense. It was irrational, beyond stupid, to think anything more of Bill Cipher than a manager. 

So why didn’t his brain stop trying to replay that kiss for him, even if he couldn’t remember it? Why did that fruity taste that he tried to wash out remain on his tongue, a shadow of what it once was? 

Quick as ever, he began rummaging in bathroom drawers, hoping to find something to clean the remnants of make-up off to no avail. Water was going to be his only option, and even if it would work, it was going to be a lot more of a hassle to make sure it didn’t smear and stain his skin.

It was a struggle, having to rub his skin quite viciously with dampened napkins and cloth, but eventually, it was all worked off, leaving the edges of his eyes and skin red from the harsh rubbing. 

He used Cipher’s hairbrush as well, just as an extra ‘fuck you for making me sleep on the couch’ before finally walking out and making his way back downstairs. The blond was still leisurely on the couch, acting as if nothing had happened the day before. 

Dipper had half the sense to want to smack Bill across the face to launch him into a wall, they weren’t in public afterall. But, that would just cause a mess in such a nice home, and the brunet was never one to damage good-looking furniture. 

Clapping his hands together to get the other's attention, he stated, “Alright, while this was a fun journey I think it’s about time for me to head home. I need to feed my snake today and last I checked on the schedule, we have another party to attend later tonight. I would prefer to have my headstart getting ready this time, so pick me up at seven.” 

“Whatever you say, doll,” Dipper huffed, narrowing his eyes a tad at the other for the pet name, but decided to not make a fuss about it. Instead, he turned with his pout and made his way to the door, slipping on his shoes and leaving without another word. 

_______

Bill listened closely to each sound the other made while leaving. From the quiet huff of frustration to his feet padding against hardwood floors while slipping on their shoes, to the front door being pushed open and firmly shut closed. 

The moment the door clicked behind Dipper was Bill getting up from his space on the couch, making his way frantically to the kitchen while his fingers worked to call a group chats on his phone, made for him and his other vampire-hunter friends to talk. Normally, they discussed what vampires they had hunted, what type they were, the sales they were getting. Sometimes, he even went out with them. 

Ever since the brunet became his target, he’s all they ever talked about. And now, Bill is desperate to clear his head somehow.

It's surprisingly quickly answered by the others, but their voices are just as fast to flood in the space where he should be talking. Their questions range from concern to wanting to know updates on the pureblood Bill was hunting. 

“God, shut up you guys are going to give me a headache,” he groaned, rolling his eyes while his hand tussled up his hair, leaning against the counter “I’m fine, relax.” 

“Okay, but you wouldn’t call us if something didn’t happen,” Pyronica chimes in, one of the only women in the chat. He’s hung out, and slept with, her on multiple occasions. She’s very rambunctious but always cuts straight to the point.

Bill sighs, pulling out the thin, deep vile of Dipper’s blood from his pocket. Just looking at the rich color made him shudder. To think that just last night the other was unconscious on his couch, that he had made out with him as though he would die without it- it’s been haunting him for the past hour. He places it on the counter in favor of picking up the cup of coffee. 

“Yeah, I got some of his blood.” He has to move the phone away from his ear from the sudden eruption of joy on the line, from Zanther’s shouting to Eight-ball slamming his hands on the table from the sudden surge of joy. The blond has to clear his throat before adding, “Well, I also made out with him, kinda heavily when the drug was settling in his system.”

He’s almost scared when the line goes silent. They all know that he’s bi, but Cipher has never mentioned having a desire in kissing Mason.

Hector is the first to speak “Wait, so you fucked him? Isn’t that like, necrophilia?” 

Bill can’t help but laugh despite how inherently bad the timing for it is. He’d considered the same thing that Hector was thinking thanks to his desires of fucking that petty vampire into his mattress, and he can’t seem to care about the whole being undead thing. 

“No, we didn’t fuck, just made out,” he clarifies, taking a sip from the same coffee cup that the brunet drank from. Just thinking of how his lips graced the side of the mug is making his pants feel unbearably tight. 

“Well, did you like making out with him?” Pyronica asks, seeming to want to know more of Cipher's feelings rather than the events itself. Her question is abrasive, and the last thing Bill wants to be asked. 

He  _ knows  _ he liked it. 

There’s no way around the fact. Bill heavily enjoyed the feeling of the brunets cold lips melding into his, the tingling that surged up his body the more that Dipper grasped at him for some sort of anchor. 

The thought of seeing Mason’s thighs slightly parted was still sticking to his mind because he desperately wanted to be between them. He wanted to grind into that perfectly lithe body and watch the other wither and moan out brokenly. To listen to his babbling gibberish while more of the drug settled into his veins and- 

“Well?” 

It’s ultimately Pyronica’s prying that breaks him out of his thoughts, and he’s standing in his kitchen with a goddamn boner at this point. With a huff, he sets down the mug and finally replies. 

“Of course not, it was just to calm him down. I gotta go, duty calls.” He hangs up and drops his phone on the counter. 

He can’t even talk about this desire to his other friends. If they found out he actually wanted to seduce the vampire, they might try to butt into it all, to eliminate the vampire before Cipher has even had another taste of that perfect mouth of his. 

Looking back down at the vile, he picks it up, eyeing the ink-like liquid resting inside. To think that this is what that pureblood has inside him. An inky, dark black of disgusting blood that leads to so many benefits to the human body. 

To think that this rests in the person of Bill’s desire. 

With a grunt, he shoves it back into his pants pocket, trudging upstairs to take care of the problem resting in the front of his jeans, hoping to get it done before heading out to work. 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are always super appreciated and help feed us inspiration to bring you all more, so don't be shy, say hi! <3


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